Deception: The 44th Hunger Games
by krigoo
Summary: Thirty years before Katniss and Peeta win the Games, an interesting twist occurs. Will you be able to handle it? Sorry, I suck at summaries. Closed, but read anyway.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** The submissions are closed, unless you have reserved a spot. All spots are currently full. _

_I would like to welcome my co-writer, Miss Mockingjay. She helped me so much already and is sure to add to the quality of this story._

_Without further ado, enjoy the prologue! A list of all tributes is at the bottom of this chapter._

* * *

Luna Pavo has been Head Gamemaker for fourteen years. Her Games have been rather interesting, whether it be a remarkable arena, exciting mutts, or eccentric tributes. She knows the ins and outs of Capitol fads and interests. She knows that this year, the 44th Hunger Games will be one for the history books.

"Mrs. Pavo?" her assistant, Io asks.

"Yes?"

"President Snow would like to know your plans for the arena this year," he tells her.

"Well, Io, while my plans for the arena are top-notch and probably my best yet, the arena is not the main focus of this year's Games," Luna says.

"Then what, ma'am? Mutts? Arena uniforms?" Io asks.

"No. The main focus is a secret. It will be revealed the night of the tributes' training scores. Until then, tell President Snow that I will write up my plans for the arena and deliver them myself," she orders.

"Yes, ma'am," Io nods, turning towards the door.

* * *

Luna holds the sheet of paper gingerly as she knocks on the door to President Snow's office. The small speaker to the left of the door buzzes.

"Please state your name and business," the president says through the speaker.

Luna presses the button below it and says, "Luna Pavo, Head Gamemaker. I'm here with the plans for the arena, sir."

"Ah, yes. Come in," he tells her.

"Good afternoon, sir," Luna smiles as she walks in the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Pavo. Please, have a seat," President Snow says, gesturing to a seat in front of his desk. "So, you have the arena plans for me?"

"Yes, sir," Luna says, handing him the paper.

The President reads the paper and moves his thin lips into a smile. "I like your plans, Mrs. Pavo. But you say here that the arena will not be the main focus. Why ever not?"

The corners of Luna's mouth move up into a grin. "I hope you can keep a secret, Mr. President."

* * *

Luna mulls over the list of names she had decided to reap. Of course, the reapings in the districts are not random. The reaping bowls are not filled with thousands of different names, but thousands of slips reading the same name. It was only a matter of choosing whose name would go on the papers in each bowl. Of course, Districts 1, 2, and 4 would have different names in the reaping bowl, but she knows exactly who'd volunteer. It is all on her list.

Luna does not know when, where, and how each tribute will die, other than those who will die at the bloodbath. This much she already knows. She selects 6 to 8 people who will die in the bloodbath at the Cornucopia at the start of the Games. As for the remaining tributes? Their fate lies in the hands of their rivals.

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Patrick MacDougal, 16 (Irish Templar)_

_F: Giselle Eve, 17 (Cashmere67)_

_District 2_

_M: Lynx Swanson, 16 (jakey121)_

_F: Helena "Howl" Draconix, 12 (incubiis)_

_District 3_

_M: Baron Chrome, 14 (Cashmere67)_

_F: Selena Haven, 13 (mine)_

_District 4_

_M: Proudlock Kasabian, 15 (indierockchick)_

_F: Evadne Caraway, 16 (Barbreeka)_

_District 5_

_M: Mercury Gratian, 14 (my brother)_

_F: Amaris Stevens, 17 (awesomosityrox)_

_District 6_

_M: Fidget Northwich, 17 (quiet-little-wallflower)_

_F: Freja Porger, 13 (Milly)_

_District 7_

_M: Quin Emery, 17 (Blackwing44)_

_F: Blythe Cronin, 16 (RunawayBaby)_

_District 8_

_M: Thread West, 15 (jakey121)_

_F: Airley Brackenfall, 16 (quiet-little-wallflower)_

_District 9_

_M: Clarence Klaxon, 13 (indierockchick)_

_F: Bryn Curry, 15 (mine)_

_District 10_

_M: Karlsson vom Dach, 16 (jabberjaythesecond)_

_F: Elsa Rose, 15 (amber'xx)_

_District 11_

_M: Reed Wallace, 13 (aichd13)_

_F: Alanna Lockhart, 17 (Purple-Tacos-R-Da-Bomb)_

_District 12_

_M: Ian Redstone, 15 (TheSoldier115)_

_F: Tymia Lixe, 17 (nightlock77)_


	2. The Careers' Reapings D1, D2, D4

_**A/N: **Hey, guys! Sorry for the wait, but here are the Careers' reapings! A big thanks to** Miss Mockingjay **for co-writing/betaing this chapter. I hope you all enjoy. :)_

* * *

**DISTRICT 1 REAPINGS**

**Patrick MacDougal's POV**

I slowly push open the door to Chiffon Eve's bedroom. I look at her to make sure she is asleep, and the periodic snoring signals that she is. I glide silently over to the jewelry box on her dresser. I lift up the mahogany lid, praying music won't play. Slowly, I open it without making a noise. Resting towards the bottom of the box is a modest bracelet made of genuine pearls. I slip it into my deep pants pocket and grab a pair of sapphire earrings while I'm at it. Next to the jewelry box lays a pile of pocket change. I grab about five coins, not caring what their value is.

Chiffon moves slightly, and I take to the floor. She rolls over to her other side, away from me. I breathe a sigh of relief. Even though I've done this hundreds of times, I still get nervous when they stir. I take the opportunity to examine the rest of her dresser, swiping an expensive blouse, then slip out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and out her kitchen window. Waiting outside for me is my group of friends: Nolan, Daniel, Justin, and our leader Samuel.

"Get anything, Pat?" Samuel asks.

"Enough," I tell him.

"You better have. It's almost 4a.m. and we only hit half of Victor's Village!" Justin says.

"Don't worry, I snagged a pearl bracelet that will pay for a family's meals for the week," I assure him. "Chiffon won't notice. She's the ditziest victor in the District."

"And the most materialistic," Nolan says. "Be careful, Pat. Don't want to get caught the night before the reaping."

"So what? I'm volunteering anyway," I shrug.

"You're what?" Justin hisses. "Have you ever even trained for the Games?"

"You know I haven't. But I've been friends with you guys for a while, and I know how to hold my own," I say.

Suddenly, the back porch light of the house next door flicks on. The five of us tug up our hoods and hop the fence, but we don't go unnoticed.

"You hooligans get back here!" our oldest victor, Musk shouts. I hear the click of a gun, then the shot at our feet as we race down the road towards town. "You damn Robin Hoods! Don't you ever come around here again!"

We run and run and run, through town, past the mines, and into the stinking slums where everything looks filthy, even in the black of the night. We run to our alley and finally stop. I slide down the brick wall into a sitting position to catch my breath.I'm just opposite the place I was once forced to call my foster home. I never belonged there, that's why I ran away. The gang is the closest thing I have to family. We look out for each other; one always has the other's back. The streets are tough, but so are we.

I drop the dagger that I'd been clutching and somehow fall asleep.

The next morning, we head to the reaping. Samuel and Daniel are 19, therefore ineligible for the reaping. Nolan heads off to the eighteen year-olds and Justin and I take our places with the sixteens. We get our fair share of dirty looks, as expected, but we shrug them off. Almost everyone knows that we steal from the rich and give to the poor, but our charity goes unsung for the most part. Most people hate us for stealing, but we do what we must.

Just then, District One's escort Fiona Faust steps up to the microphone.

"Good morning, District One!" she chirps. "It is such a pleasure to join you again."

Fiona drones on and on with her usual speech, and I nearly fall asleep until I hear the clacking of her heels on the stage, headed for the girls' reaping bowl. She makes her way back to the microphone, clears her throat, and reads the name, "Emerald Amour."

Suddenly, shouts of "I volunteer!" resonate through the town square. Pushing her way into the aisle is a familiar girl with blonde hair that falls to her shoulders. Several other girls try to shove their way out of the crowd, but it's clear that this girl will be this year's tribute. She strides onto the stage and announces herself as "Giselle Eve," and immediately I know who she is. She is Chiffon's daughter.

**Giselle Eve's POV**

As I take my place on the stage and announce my name, I hear several murmurs from the crowd. "Chiffon's daughter!" "She must be well-trained." "Maybe we'll have another victor."

What can I say? They're all correct. My mother won the 20th Hunger Games when she was seventeen, and I plan to do the same. I've been training with Mom since I was ten, and I'm practically an expert at knife throwing. I know all the spots of the human body that will cause almost immediate death if struck with one of my knives. I might have had a privileged life, but I'm more deadly than any of the girls who failed to claw their way onto the stage. I'm more than just a victor's daughter; I'm a fierce killer, as I'll soon prove to the whole country.

I smile at the crowd, and they applaud me in return.

Fiona makes her way over to the boys' reaping bowl, and I look at the older boys, almost half of them eager to volunteer.

I look over at Fiona, who reads the name, "Cobalt Blaze." Dozens of boys are shouting, and I watch one particularly muscled boy with blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes take out a couple of people around him, when suddenly, a tall red-haired boy appears next to me on the stage. How did he get here? Compared to the muscular boys glaring up at him in the crowd, he looks almost scrawny.

"Wonderful!" Fiona grins. "What is your name, young man?"

"Patrick MacDougal."

I make eye-contact with the boy, but his green eyes flit away. I look at what he's wearing. He's dressed completely in black, with his deep pant pockets weighed down with who knows what. Suddenly, I realize who he is. He's one of the Robin Hoods. They steal from the rich and give to the poor. They've robbed my house on more than one occasion, but for some reason, my mother doesn't care. She says that we can always buy more; let them have their fun. I, on the other hand, do care. Nobody crosses my family.

I glare at Patrick as we shake hands. Then we're escorted into the Justice Building to say our goodbyes. I'm taken into a room with a royal blue velvet couch. I sit down and await my visitors.

First to enter is my little sister, Blanche. The poor thing is only ten years old and loves me to death.

"Oh, Giselle!" she sobs. "Why would you want to go into the Games? We have plenty of money. There's no need for you to do this."

"I don't care about the money," I tell her. "I want the fame and respect Mom has. She was my age when she won the Games. She turned out fine. I've been training with her since I was your age, Blanche. I can win." I say it with absolute confidence, knowing it's true. I've been just a pretty face at my mother's side for too long. It's my turn to have the spotlight.

"Please, Giselle. Please come home."

"Don't worry," I say as I pull her into a hug, feeling a small pang of guilt at leaving her in this state. "I'll be back. I love you."

"I love you, too."

A Peacekeeper knocks at the door and escorts her out.

My father walks in next, still wearing his Peacekeeper uniform. I rarely see him, since he's almost always on the job at night and sleeps while I'm at school and training during the day. It's nice to see him.

"Hey there, baby doll," he smiles.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Are you sure you can do this?" he asks me seriously.

"I've been training for years. I'm ready."

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," he says.

Suddenly, he pulls me into one of his rare hugs and rubs my back.

"I love you, Giselle. I'll be waiting for you."

"Love you too, Daddy."

He leaves without being escorted out. Just then, my two friends, Aura and Carson walk in.

"Giselle!" Aura squeals. "I can't believe you're actually going to be in the Hunger Games."

"I know, it's surreal," I tell her.

"Well, you're certainly ready for it. You almost took my head off this morning at training," she laughs.

"Good luck out there," Carson says. "We'll be rooting for you."

They leave, and my final visitor arrives. Mom.

"Well, Giselle, you did it. You volunteered," she says, an unusual tear forming in her eye. "You get to experience the Games. Just…like…me."

I tilt my head slightly. "Mom, what's wrong? Don't you think I'm ready?"

"No, no. You're ready."

"Then what is it?"

"What happens in that arena will never leave you. Just…remember that," she says, looking at something far away in the past**.**

She takes my hand and places something in it. A ring. Her ring. The ring given to her by the president after she won her Games all those years ago.

"Your token," she whispers. "I'll see you on the train."

With that, she exits the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

* * *

**DISTRICT 2 REAPINGS**

**Lynx Swanson's POV**

The clashing of metal on metal resonates through the gym as I look around and see the sword fights, knife throwing, and archery being practiced around me. The reaping takes place later today, and everyone wants some last-minute practice.

It's my turn at the hand-to-hand combat station. It's not one of my best stations, but it's certainly not the worst. My opponent, Lance Hexus, is about the same size as I am, but he's not nearly as smart. He's got muscles the size of my head, but they won't do anything in terms of strategizing.

The trainer shouts, "Go!" and we lunge at each other. Lance gets me in a head lock almost right away, but I elbow him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He grabs my ankle, effectively yanking me onto the ground. We scuffle for a bit, before I dislocate his elbow and pin him to the ground. The bell rings, signaling the end of training. I hold out my hand to him to help him up. He just frowns at it and walks away. Everyone here seems to think that anyone who trains for the Games has to become a senseless monster. That's not me, and it never will be.

I head home to wash up for the reapings. My house isn't too far from the gym, and I make it home in ten minutes. I head to the bathroom for a quick shower and dress in my nicest shirt and tie. I slip on my black dress pants and shoes and take one last look in the mirror. I comb my blonde hair a bit and head out into the kitchen.

"Lynx," my father nods at me.

"Dad," I reply.

"I made you some breakfast," he says, staring at the newspaper in his hands.

"Wow, thanks," I tell him, sitting at my seat at the table across from him.

Dad almost never cooks anything; it's usually my job. But I guess since today is the reaping, he figured he'd put some effort into helping me out. Not that he hasn't before. Dad single-handedly raised me since Mom left us all those years ago. My sister, Jasmine helped raise me for a while, before she got married and moved out a few years ago. Since then, it's just been my father and me, living all alone in this house. We love each other, but it's a complicated relationship. He seems to blame me for mom's departure, since she would always complain that I would never become a real fighter, because I was always too kind and charming. Mom put me in training when I was five, but I still seemed to disappoint her. Because of this, I can never really say I loved my mother.

I eat the bowl of oatmeal Dad made and clean up the dishes.

"I'm thinking of volunteering today, Dad," I tell him.

"Is that so?" he says, finally looking up from the paper.

"Yes, sir. I'm the best sword fighter my age. I even beat Lance Hexus today in wrestling."

"Damien's boy? Hmm. Well, I suppose your mother would be proud, won't she?" he chuckles. "I'd love to see the look on her face when she sees you on that stage."

I nod my head. I'm determined to not only prove Mom wrong, but to make my father proud. I want to show him that I can fight, and I can bring pride to District Two.

"I better get going," I say.

"See you in the Justice Building?" Dad asks.

"Count on it."

I head towards the town square, meeting up with some of my friends along the way. Quinn, a short pretty girl, lives down the street from me.

"Hey, Lynx!" she calls.

"Hey there, Quinn. You ready for the reapings?"

"No, not at all. But I figure if I get reaped, people will volunteer anyway," she shrugs.

"I plan on volunteering," I tell her.

"Lynx, no! You can't!" she squeals.

"I've already made up my mind," I say.

"Made up your mind about what?" my other friend, Jasper asks, walking down the steps of his house.

"Volunteering."

"This year?" he asks, eyebrows raised. I nod. "Well, to each his own, I suppose," he shrugs, but I can see his concern.

Jasper is one of the most popular kids in the District. He has no plans of volunteering, but trains in his house just in case.

Waiting for us at the corner of the street is my best friend, Lilli. She already knows of my plans to volunteer, and has tried talking me out of it to no avail.

"Hey, guys!" she waves. "Ready for the reaping?"

"I'm ready to volunteer," I smile.

"Not this again," she throws her head back. "I thought you were over that!"

"Nope."

"Let's just hope someone else gets to the stage before him," Quinn says.

We arrive in the town square and take our places just in time for the reaping to begin.

"Welcome, District Two!" the escort, Cleo Augustus announces. She acts as if this is her home and we are all mere guests. "It's that time of the year again. The time you've all been waiting for: the reaping of the tributes for the 44th Hunger Games!"

The crowd roars with excitement. Cleo continues with her speech for a while, and I begin to lose interest, until she says, "Boys first this year!"

She dips her hand into the bowl of names and draws a slip. "Marcus—"

"I volunteer!" almost everyone shouts, effectively cutting her off.

Thank goodness I'm near the aisle, because I break into a full-on sprint at the stage. I knock down a few others vying for the spot, but I make it to the stage first.

"Well, hello there!" Cleo laughs. "What is your name?"

"Lynx Swanson," I smile triumphantly.

I scan the crowd and find my father, standing with Jasmine and her husband. I give them a smile and thumbs up. I look over the rest of the crowd, and find my mother, looking at me with pure shock. I haven't seen the woman in over five years, and she hasn't aged a bit. I smirk at her, and her face pales.

_Look at me now, Mom_, I think to myself, willing that she can hear my thoughts. _And you said I'd never be able to survive a day in the Hunger Games. I'm going to prove you wrong, Mom. I'm going to win._

**Helena "Howl" Draconix's POV**

I look up at the tall boy gracing the stage. Lynx Swanson. The name sounds familiar, but I know I've never spoken to him. He gives smiles to the crowd, who goes nuts for him. I just wish they'd quiet down so we can carry on with the reapings.

Cleo Augustus makes her way over to the girls' reaping bowl. She selects the slip of paper, and walks back to the microphone.

"Amelia Julius."

"I volunteer!" I shout at the top of my lungs. People turn and give me weird looks, and I know what they're thinking. _What is that little twelve year-old doing? Is she insane? _No, I'm not insane. I'm volunteering to prove a point. All my life, my family has frowned upon me for my size, because someone so petite could never win the Hunger Games. My older brother, Azael won last year's Games, but he's a big brute who teases me for my size. I'm about to prove to him and the rest of my family that I am perfectly capable of winning the Games.

All the other girls are in a state of shock when they see me walking down the aisle.

"What, no competition?" I ask them as I strut past.

I mount the stage as Cleo gives me the same look as the rest of the crowd.

"Hello, sweetie. What's your name?" she coos.

"Howl Draconix." I smirk at the slightly horrified look on Cleo's face at my nickname. I hate my real name, Helena. It's a horrible name. Howl suits me much more. Loud, fierce, and a terrifying force to be reckoned with. That's how people should see me.

I turn to Lynx and shake his hand. He gives me a look of sympathy. As if I need it. If anything, I should be the one feeling sorry for him. He doesn't know what he's getting himself into. I raise an eyebrow and give him a sinister grin. His look instantly vanishes.

I'm taken to my room in the Justice Building where I'll say my goodbyes to my friends and family.

My father walks into the room first.

"Howl, what have you done?" he asks me.

"I'm going to prove you all wrong," I tell him flatly.

"You don't need to prove anything to us," he says. "We know you're tough, strong-willed, and intuitive. You don't need to throw yourself into the Hunger Games."

"If Azael can do it, so can I."

He sighs. "Alright, dear. Just…promise you'll make it back."

I scoff. "Of course I'm coming back."

The Peacekeeper opens the door, signaling him to leave. As soon as he's out of the door, Azael walks in.

"Oh, wonderful," I say sarcastically. "Just the person I wanted to see."

"Howl, this is no time for joking around," he says urgently. "I may have driven you to doing this, but it's a big mistake. The Games change you. I wish you would have told me ahead of time that you were going to volunteer. I would have talked you out of it."

"In that case, I'm glad I didn't tell you," I retort. In all honestly I had no intentions of volunteering earlier in the day. But seeing my smug brother sitting on the stage with all those other victors made me hunger for that same victory they all have.

"What do you think Mom will say?" Azael asks.

"She'll be proud. She's probably in her hotel room in the Capitol watching this and wishing she was here," I answer.

"Howl, if you fail, Mom will be so disappointed," Azael hisses.

"What do I care?" I snap. "If I fail, I'll be dead. Who cares what anyone thinks of me if I'm dead?"

Azael runs his fingers through his blonde hair and sighs. "I'll see you on the train."

With that, he walks out the door, passing his twin, Elektra as she hurries through the door and embraces me in a hug.

"Oh, Howl. Why am I not surprised?" she whispers.

Elektra is one of the few people I care for. She has never mocked me for my size or treated me poorly. She has always loved me for who I am. Unlike what I would do if it were anyone else hugging me, I hug back.

"You're a fighter," she says as she pulls away from our hug. "You're smart and aggressive. You can win. You can come home."

Tears are forming in her green eyes at the thought of me dying. I almost cry too, but I push away the feeling.

"I am coming home, Elektra. I promise."

We hug once more, say our I-love-yous, and she leaves.

My three friends, Aurora, Nexus, and Ares walk through the door.

"Howl!" Aurora sobs as she hugs me tightly. "Please come back! You can't leave me here with these two!"

I laugh and pull away. "I'll be back, Aurora."

"Yeah, in a wooden box," Nexus retorts.

"Shut up," Ares says, thumping him on the back of the head. "Howl, I know how much you love to write. Will you take this with you as your token?"

Ares hands me a small blank notepad.

"There won't be any pens in the arena, Ares," I tell him.

"I know. I just figured you could write about all your memories and experiences in the Games when you get back," he shrugs.

"Thanks," I say.

They all wish me luck and leave. I clutch the notebook to my chest, willing myself to make it home to fill it with memories.

* * *

**DISTRICT 4 REAPINGS**

**Evadne Caraway's POV**

"Evadne! Wake up!" Mom yells harshly. "You need to eat breakfast before the reaping."

I roll off of my bed and head into the kitchen.

"What time is it?" I yawn.

"Nine. You've overslept," my mother replies, laying my plate down in front of me. "Eat. You'd better hurry up if you want to look good for the reaping."

"Mom!" I grumble. "You just put my plate down. Give me a chance to eat!"

"I'm sick of your attitude, Evadne. Your father and I raised you better than this." _You mean just my father, he's been around more than you_, I have to stop myself from snapping back. Today isn't the day to argue. Mom and I have never really had that special mother-daughter bond. In fact, we argue more than two jealous sisters. But it's a completely different story with my Dad.

Almost on cue, Dad walks in the back door.

"Morning, ladies!" he smiles. "How are my wonderful women doing today?"

Mom turns back to the stove and I begin gobbling down my breakfast.

"Oookay, then," Dad says, taking a seat across from me. "You excited for the reaping, Evadne?"

"Yessir," I answer, grinning.

"You going to try to volunteer again?"

"Absolutely. I'll make it to the stage first this year," I assure him. Last year, I tried to volunteer, but an eighteen year-old made it to the stage before me. Mom was angry and embarrassed, but Dad laughed it off and said that I'll have three more years to try again.

"And if you don't make it?" Mom hisses.

"Then I'll have two more years to try again," I retort.

"No, if you're going to volunteer, you'd better get to that stage first. It was embarrassing enough last year," she says.

I sigh, putting my bowl in the sink. I head to the bathroom and shower. I dress in a teal blue tank top that shows off my tattoos: "Forever & Always" on my left shoulder blade, and "Beauty is not created. It is," on my right shoulder blade. One of my guy friends introduced me to a kid at school that did them. They really hurt, but it was worth it, to see priceless look of shock on Mom's face if anything. She went on for days about how disobedient I was, putting the family to shame and how lucky I was that they didn't get infected. Dad just rolled his eyes, shook his head and asked, "What are we going to do with you?"

I slip on a pair of black jeans and sneakers before putting in my black stud earrings, black stud cartilage earring, and black stud on the right side of my nose. What can I say? I like my piercings to match. Another part of me my mother disapproves of.

I say goodbye to my parents and head off to the town square. I take my place with the other sixteen year-old girls and wait for our escort, Ramona Avalon to take the stage.

"Good to see you, District Four!" she smiles. "It's so beautiful here. This is by far my favorite district!"

The audience claps politely, and she grins wider. She gives her annual speech and says, "Ladies first!" She selects a slip of paper from the reaping bowl and walks back to the microphone.

"Anemone Dover."

"I volunteer!" I shout, along with about half a dozen other girls. I push my way into the aisle, and find myself in second place. The girl in front of me, an eighteen year-old with red hair, mounts the steps. I grab her by the ankle and yank her down onto the ground. She lies there, stunned, as I take my place on the stage.

"What an entrance!" Ramona exclaims. "What's your name, dear?"

"Evadne Caraway."

"That's my girl!" I hear Dad call from the crowd, looking like he's about to burst with pride. I smile at him and give a little wave. Mom stands next to him, smiling slightly, a rarity for her.

_Don't worry, Daddy. I'll make you proud_, I silently promise him. _I'll bring pride to District Four. I'll make sure you never have to work another day of your life. I'll come home._

**Proudlock Kasabian's POV**

I watch as a strong-looking blonde girl pulls down Maria Freez, the best female fighter in the District. I know this because she's my sister's best friend. This year was Maria's last year to volunteer, and this girl just stole it from her.

The girl takes her place on the stage and announces herself as Evadne Caraway. She looks somewhat familiar, but her name doesn't ring any bells in my head.

Our escort, Ramona, walks over to the boys' bowl and fishes out the name "Proudlock Kasabian." _Poor kid_, I think to myself. Until I realize that kid is me. My eyes widen, and I'm frozen solid. Someone pushes me into the aisle, and I feel myself mount the stage.

Why is no one volunteering? I'm not ready for this. Not at all. I'm not even sixteen years old yet. Why didn't someone volunteer for me? I've never trained before. I have no muscle whatsoever. I'm not very tall, not even that handsome compared to some of the other boys around here. The only thing I have going for me is my speed. Why didn't anyone volunteer? I look at the boys section as I go up, my eyes pleading for one of them to take my place. But no one moves. There will be no male volunteers this year.

I shake hands with Evadne, looking into her piercing blue-gray eyes. She looks pretty threatening, what with all her piercings and muscles. We're taken into the Justice Building and directed into our rooms to say farewell to our loved ones.

My first visitors are my family: my mom and dad, my older sister, and my younger brother. They all embrace me in hugs.

"Oh, Proudlock, how could this happen?" Mom sobs. "Your name was in the reaping four times. Four!"

"I don't know why no one volunteered," my sister, Tuesday says.

"I should have," my brother, Jed whispers. He's only thirteen and wouldn't have made it past the bloodbath.

"Don't worry about it, little buddy," I assure him. "I'll be better off than you would be."

"We're gonna miss you so much, Proudlock," my dad tells me.

"I'll miss you guys, too. Take care of the shop for me, will you?"

"Absolutely," Dad says.

"I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad," I say, hugging them goodbye.

"I love you, too," they reply, and file out the door.

"I love you, Tuesday," I tell her, hugging her one last time.

"I love you, too. Here," she says, handing me Grandpa's old chess piece. "Your token. For good luck."

"Thank you."

Jed walks over and hugs me.

"I love you, Jed."

"Love you, too, Proudlock. Make us proud," Jed says into my shirt.

He exits the room, and my girlfriend, Cady flies through the door and into my arms.

"Oh, Proudlock!" she cries. She sobs hysterically and begins hiccupping.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," I tell her, stroking her hair.

"Please win. Please come back to me," she sobs.

"I'll try, Cady. I'll try with all my heart. I love you," I whisper. I mean every word, but I know that simply trying isn't enough in the Games when you have hardly any skills to try with.

"I love you, too, Proudlock."

We kiss, and when we pull away, a pang of distress overcomes me. Cady is so beautiful, too beautiful for me. She doesn't deserve to live through this. I can't have her be this way.

"Cady, we need to break up. I don't want to hold you back from all the wonderful guys you could be dating after I'm gone," I tell her, my voice catching near the end.

"Proudlock…" she starts.

"No, Cady. I want you to be happy. Please, have a good life. Live better than this. You don't deserve to be weighed down by my death."

"Proudlock, I'll miss you. If you win, can we be together?" she pleads.

"Absolutely."

We kiss one last time, and she leaves. For the first time all day, I have confidence. I have something worth fighting for. Something to come home to. I have everything to lose. That fact is my weapon, the thing that's keep me going, what will make me dangerous. And I'll win the Hunger Games or die trying.


	3. D3, D5, D6 Reapings

_**A/N: **Hello, readers! So sorry for the long wait, but I haven't been at a computer long enough to write until a couple of days ago. A big thanks to **Miss Mockingjay** for getting this chapter back to me so quickly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I hope your tributes were portrayed well. :)_

* * *

**DISTRICT 3 REAPINGS**

**Selena Haven's POV**

I walk slowly to the reaping with my twin sister, Tamara. I'm almost positive one of us will be picked today. We've had to put our names in the bowl sixteen times each: twice because we're thirteen and that's the minimum, and twice for each member of our family to receive tesserae. I don't know why Mom and Dad had to have so many children, especially considering the conditions we live in. Not only are we dirt poor, but we have the Hunger Games to deal with. For us, going into the Games isn't just as possibility; it's an evitable fact. With 32 entries between us, it doesn't exactly take a genius to see the odds aren't in our favor at all.

Tamara and I are the oldest of all our siblings, and the only ones eligible for the reaping. But eventually, all of our siblings will have to put their lives on the line with ours. We take our spots with the other thirteen year-olds and link our arms together tightly.

Elvira McAdoo, District Three's frightening escort, takes the stage. She gives us her usual speech and trots over to the girls' reaping bowl.

"Selena Haven," she squeals with sadistic joy.

I look at Tamara, who slinks out of my grip and drops to the ground, unconscious. I don't even have time to crouch down beside her before several Peacekeepers swarm around us.

"Go on, girl. Take your place on the stage. We'll take care of her," one of them orders me.

Totally stunned and in disbelief, I nod absent-mindedly and stumble my way up to the stage, on autopilot. All I can think is if Tamara will be okay, even though my life is the one truly in danger.

"Hello, dear!" Elvira chirps as I make my way up the steps. "Any volunteers?" she asks the grim crowd.

The crowd is utterly silent, aside from the Peacekeepers trying to wake my sister. I hear one of them ask another for smelling salts, and watch as they shove something under my sister's nose. She suddenly jolts up, awake but looking dazed and confused. They escort her to my parents in the crowd, who they find sobbing and cradling my other siblings. My little brothers and sisters have no idea what's going on or why Mom and Dad are crying. But my parents know the inevitable. They know today is the last they'll see me alive.

**Baron Chrome's POV**

"Selena Haven," District Three's escort, Elvira McAdoo reads.

I look over to the girls and see some shuffling in the thirteen year-olds section, and then hear a small thud. About three Peacekeepers rush over and form a circle around whoever fell. One of the Peacekeepers says something to a rather tall and lanky girl with long, sand-colored hair. She nods slightly, with a vacant look in her eyes, and steps into the aisle. She must be Selena Haven. She stumbles up to the stage, and looks like she's in her own little world.

"Doesn't she realize she just got reaped?" my friend, Carson murmurs.

"Looks like this year's odds of having a District Three victor just decreased," I whisper back. Not that the odds were very high to begin with.

"Lovely!" Elvira squeaks, clasping her hands together. "Moving on to our boys." She makes her way to the reaping bowl and selects her slip of paper. "Baron Chrome."

My eyes widen. I can't be a tribute. I'm so weak and frail. I'll be lucky if I make it past the bloodbath. Surely someone with a conscience will see that and volunteer. Someone who's much more capable of winning the Hunger Games.

I wait for a volunteer, refusing to move from my spot. Elvira calls my name again and those around me start to shove me towards the aisle. I reluctantly give in and accept my fate. I take my walk of shame up to the stage and take my place. Selena and I shake hands and are taken to our separate rooms in the Justice Building.

I'm escorted to my room, and take a seat on the neon green couch. The first to visit me are my parents. They run in the room and cradle me in a long hug. As their only child, I can only imagine how awful they must feel.

"Baron, we love you so much!" my mother sobs.

"I love you too," I tell my parents.

"We're gonna miss you so much, little buddy," Dad says.

"I'll miss you too," I tell him. "I love you both so much. Never forget that."

Before long, the Peacekeeper opens the door, signaling their time to leave. We hug and kiss one last time, and they leave.

My next visitors are my friends, Brenna and Carson.

"Baron, you've got to win!" Carson says as soon as he walks in the door.

"How? I've got no muscle whatsoever."

"You're smart, Baron. So incredibly smart. Brains always beat brawn," Brenna says, putting her hand in my shoulder.

"No they don't. Do you know how many victors the Career districts have? We have two. Two!" I cry.

"That's more than some districts have," Carson says.

"Yeah, but we haven't won in years!" I tell him. Our last victor was a kid much smarter than me named Beetee. He won the 30th Hunger Games by electrocuting his enemies. I'm smart, but I don't have the ability to survive like he did.

"I guess District Three is due for a victor, then," Brenna says, trying to smile.

"Yeah, but not this year," I grumble.

Carson sighs. "You'll at least try, won't you?"

I look into their pleading eyes, begging me to have as much faith in myself as they do. "Of course. I wouldn't go down without a fight," I assure him, not completely believing the words.

"Well, good luck, Baron. We'll be rooting for you," Brenna tells me, pulling me into a hug.

The Peacekeeper opens the door, and my friends leave.

I sit back down on the couch and put my head in my hands. Maybe Brenna and Carson are right. Maybe we are due for a victor from District 3. I can figure out a way to outsmart the other tributes. It's been done before. Besides, Beetee will be my mentor. With our two brains working together, I can create a trap that will go down in Hunger Games history as being the deadliest ever.

**DISTRICT 5 REAPINGS**

**Amaris Stevens' POV**

It figures, the one day off from working at the power plant has to be spent in the town square at the reaping. It's a nice day too, one of the few occasions the sun manages to fight its way through the smog.

I walk over and take the blue dress off of its hanger on my door and pull it on. It is a soft, simple cotton thing that stops at my knee, just covering the burns on my thighs. I received these burns back when I was about ten years old. I just started working at the power plant with my father for a couple of months when one day, we left a little later than usual because I forgot my coat inside. I went back in to get it, and just as I walked through the door, something malfunctioned and the plant blew up. Hundreds of workers died that day, and I'm lucky all I got were these nasty burns.

I shake the memory from my mind and head into the kitchen to eat before I leave for the reaping.

"Morning, dear," Mom says from the sink.

"Morning, Mom."

My dad opens the door from the bathroom and looks at me. "Well, look at my pretty little girl. All dolled up for the reaping."

"Just two more years and I'm free," I say, sitting down at the table.

"Those two years can't come soon enough," Mom says. "It's horrible having to wait and see if your child will have to fight to the death once a year."

"Mom!" I hiss. She knows better than to say such things, and even though we're in our house, you never know who could hear.

"Oh, who's going to hear me?" she says, shaking her head.

"I did," says my older brother, Petrel, as he walks out of his bedroom. "Better watch yourself, Mother."

"Are you going to report me?" my mom asks him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Maybe I will," he smiles. "Maybe I'm not really Petrel. Maybe I'm a Peacekeeper in disguise."

"I don't know why anyone would want to disguise as you," I joke.

"Because everyone wants to be just like me, Squirt," he says, putting me in a friendly headlock and ruffling my hair.

"Hey, cut it out! I just brushed it!" I complain, smiling as I break free and give him at little playful shove. He holds his hands up.

I love Petrel more than anything else in the world. He's always protected me for as long as I can remember. Back when I was twelve and he was sixteen, he refused to let me put my name in for tesserae. Every year after the reaping, he'd spend the whole remainder of the day with me in celebration of not being sent into the Games.

"What are we doing this year after the reaping?" I ask him.

"Whatever you want," he shrugs.

Mom brings over our breakfast and we eat it quickly before heading to the town square. Even though Petrel is twenty-one years old, he still insists on walking me to the reaping. Not only does he get to spend time with me, but we meet my best friend, Belle at the end of the street. Belle's sister is dating Petrel, and she insists on walking with Belle to the reaping, so everyone wins.

Sure enough, there they are at the end of the street. We chat with each other until we reach the town square. From there, Belle and I say goodbye to our siblings and take our place with the other seventeen year-olds.

Our escort gives the required speech and says, "Ladies first!" He walks over to the reaping bowl and takes his pick. He steps back to the microphone, clears his throat, and reads the name, "Amaris Stevens."

My mouth falls open. The only thing I hear is my heart beating in my ears. This can't be! I was two years away from safety. Two years!

Suddenly, I think of my family. They've already lost a daughter. Way back when Petrel was a baby, he had a twin named Keira. She got pneumonia and died when she was just an infant. My parents can't lose another daughter. I won't let them. I put on a brave face and take my place on the stage. I will win this year's Hunger Games. I refuse to let my family down. They deserve this victory. I deserve this victory. I've overcome the odds all those years ago when I survived the plant explosion. Why shouldn't I overcome these odds?

**Mercury Gratian's POV**

I see Amaris Stevens take the stage. She looks surprised as she turns to the crowd.

Our escort walks over to the reaping bowl and pulls out the name of this year's male tribute.

"Mercury Gratian."

I exhale deeply and step into the aisle. I should have known I'd be picked this year. My older sister, Katrina would usually take out the tesserae, but miraculously, she's never gotten picked and turned nineteen last month. That left me to put my name in the reaping more than I'm used to: the three mandatory times, plus the additional three times for each of the four members of my family. I guess I should have known either Katrina or I would get reaped eventually.

I walk towards the stage as calmly and stoically as possible. I don't want any potential sponsors thinking I'm scared or sad. It's bad enough that I'm an impoverished fourteen year-old from District 5.

I shake hands with the now determined-looking Amaris and get taken into my room in the Justice Building. I sit down on the couch and ball up my fists. I must stay strong for my family when they come to see me.

My parents walk in first, tears streaking down their faces.

"Mercury, we shouldn't have let you take out all that tesserae," my mother says, clasping my face in her hands. "You're too young to go like this."

"That never stopped Katrina from taking out tesserae for the past seven years," I tell her, trying to make my parents feel better.

"We're lucky she was never reaped. We should have known not to take our chances with you," my dad says.

"How else would we have eaten?" I ask him.

Neither of my parents answers. They each embrace me in a hug and a kiss, tell me they love me, and are escorted out.

My next and final visitor is Katrina. Her brown eyes are filled with tears that spill over when they see me.

"Mercury," she says, voice quivering. "I tried so hard to protect you from this. I wish there was something I could do."

"It's okay, Kat. I'd rather be here then have to watch you go through this," I say, immediately realizing she, too, would rather die in the Hunger Games than have to watch me get killed.

A small sob escapes her lips and she hugs me tightly. "I love you so much, Mercury. Please win. Outsmart everyone in that arena."

"I will," I promise her.

I decide from here on to have the mindset of "What would Kat do?" in every situation I'm in. She's my role model. She's smart, brave, and wise. Katrina could win the Hunger Games by outsmarting people, no sweat. So if she can think her way though anything, why shouldn't I?

**DISTRICT SIX**

**Freja Porger's POV**

I look at my mom, whose pale skin is almost transparent in the sunlight peeking through the window. I watch her as she taps the bottom of her bottle of some sort of liquor, making sure she drinks every last drop. She passes out onto the kitchen table in front of her, which is littered with at least half a dozen other bottles. I walk over to her, desperately trying to wake her up before my father gets home, but she's out cold.

Suddenly, my father throws open the door, causing me to jump. His piercing black pupils dart from me, to my mother, and back to me.

"What have you done this time to cause your mother such distress?" he asks, slowly approaching me.

"Nothing, Father," I respond, but it's futile. He raises his hand and slaps me hard on my cheek. He throws me to the ground.

"You disgusting thing. Never have I seen such a poor excuse for a girl," he spits.

I cower in fear on the ground, expecting his next blow, but it never comes. Instead, he walks over to Mother prying open her eyelids to reveal her unconscious pale blue eyes.

Father looks up at me suddenly. "Go get ready for the reaping, Freja. Before you further disgrace this family."

I nod and run to my room before he can strike me again. As I dress, I think back on the times when I was a toddler and my parents were not only sober, but were kind, loving people. They'd take me for walks around the district on Sundays and heat water on the stove for my bath and sing me songs as I fell asleep. But when I was six years old, my parents tried to have another baby and my mother miscarried. She went into a deep depression and began drinking and doing drugs. Her porcelain white skin turned yellow, and her lively blue eyes lost their color. My father blamed me for my mother's steep decline and abused me every day since. I've gotten used to it now, but when he uses my mother's empty liquor bottles as weapons, I can't help but cry out in pain, which just angers him more. Bruises cover my body, which is yellow like my mother's, but mine is a result of a medical problem that my parents refuse to do anything about. My father spits in my face and tells me that I am selfish for thinking about myself when my mother is having a horrible day.

A small blackbird perches itself on my windowpane and sings a sweet melody. I smile slightly, slowly approaching it. I softly repeat the notes it sang, and it cocks its head slightly. I sing them again, and the bird sings them back.

"Freja!" my father yells, slamming my door open and scaring the bird away. "Get to the square now. You will be dead if you are late for the reaping."

As horrible as it sounds I know my father is totally capable of killing me. I throw my shoes on and run out the door as fast as I can just to get away from the hell that is my house.

As I approach the town square, I see the other kids talking with their friends. My spirits lower even more as I am reminded of the sad reality that I have not a friend in the world. I stand in the thirteen year-olds section silently and watch as our escort, Demetrius something-or-other takes the stage, gives his speech, and plucks a name out of the girls' reaping bowl.

"Freja Porger."

I duck my head down and begin sobbing profusely. I bury my face in my hands and try wiping the tears away, but a steady stream flows down my cheeks. I feel a grip of Peacekeeper gloves on my arms as they walk me onto the stage. I try to stop crying and beging hiccupping relentlessly. Demetrius ignores this and walks over to the other reaping bowl. I wipe the tears off of my cheeks and feel a strange sense of relief. Sure, I'm almost guaranteed to die in these Games. By crying in front of all these cameras, I'm practically signing my own death certificate. But maybe dying won't be so bad. I won't have to deal with my father's abuse as my mother watches silently with a glazed look in her eyes. I won't have to watch as my mother drinks and drugs what's left of her miserable existence away. I won't have to feel so horribly lonely watching other kids laugh and have fun with their friends. I'll be free from it all. I'll finally be at peace.

**Fidget Northwich's POV**

I look at the poor little girl sobbing on the stage and am overwhelmed with pity. She's a frail child with yellowish skin, white-blond hair, pale blue eyes, freckles across her face and arms, and bruises scattering her body. I've never seen this delicate and frail looking creature before, but she is four years younger than me, and there are a lot of people in District Six.

I tune back in to the reapings when Demetrius clears his throat at the microphone, dramatically pausing before reading the boy tribute's name.

"Fidget Northwich."

I feel all the color flush from my face. The world feels like it's spinning as those around me urge me forward. I step into the aisle and approach the stage as calmly as I can. There's no way I can win the Games, but I can't let the audience know that. I shake hands with the little girl and get taken to a room in the Justice Building. As soon as the Peacekeeper shuts the door, I break down and begin sobbing. My mother and younger brother, Cygnet, walk in the door and sit on the couch with me and cry. We hug and kiss and cry and tell each other how much we love them. The Peacekeeper takes them out and my girlfriend, Eena walks in.

"Fidge," she breathes, wrapping her arms around me. "You've got to come home."

"Eena, there are going to be so many tributes that have much better chances of winning than I do. I'm not tall or smart or trained," I tell her. I'm a stupid, stocky, awkward kid from District Six. What chance do I have?

"You're strong, Fidge. You'll have three days of training to learn how to survive. Make allies. Do what you need to make it back," she says, hugging me.

"I'll try, Eena. I'll try my best," I tell her.

"That's all I want," she says, kissing me gently. "I love you, Fidget."

"I love you, too, Eena. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. So, so much," she says, a tear flowing down her cheek. I brush it off with my thumb.

"If I make it back…" I start, not sure how to finish. "Will you marry me?"

Eena raises her eyebrows, then her expression turns into a tiny smile. "Absolutely."

We share one last beautiful kiss before she's taken away from me, possibly forever.

* * *

_**A/N: **Since my birthday is Saturday (June 30), maybe you all could give me an early birthday present and review? It would be much appreciated and make me so happy :)  
_


	4. D7, D8, D9 Reapings

_**A/N: **Hello again, readers! I know it's been over a week since I've last updated, and I'm so sorry for that. I haven't been home much this past week. I'd like to thank you all for the reviews and happy birthday wishes. I'm officially sixteen! :D_

_Anyway, another thanks to Miss Mockingjay for her help once again!_

_I've also made a blog for this story, which I'll post at the bottom of this chapter. I'll be updating it frequently, adding things like training scores, allies, cause of death, etc. Let me know how you like the tributes, and if yours has an accurate picture. It was very difficult matching the exact description you gave, and I tried my best to find a match. If you have a picture you'd like me to use, send me the link via PM._

_One more note: I've been debating on whether or not I should have a sponsor system. It's not exactly fair for me to pick who dies, but by the same token, it is my story. So, I've created a poll on my profile. Vote yes or no to whether you want a sponsor system for this story. Thanks so much, enjoy the reapings!_

* * *

**DISTRICT SEVEN REAPINGS**

**Quin Emery's POV**

I take the oatmeal off the stove and pour half into one bowl for me, and half in another bowl for my father. I pull two spoons out of the drawer just as my father walks into the kitchen.

"Morning, Dad," I smile.

"Morning, Quin," he yawns. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," I shrug. Today is the dreaded reaping day. It's exactly seventeen years to the day that my mother was reaped, only two months after having me. A lifetime of seeing me grow up gone in an instant. I'm sure she wanted to win, to come back to be with Dad and me, but she didn't even make it past the bloodbath at the Cornucopia. A monstrous Career saw to that. So for as long as I can remember, it's just been Dad and me, which suits me just fine. He's the best father anyone could ask for, but I can't help but feel sad about never getting the chance to keep any memories of my mother. I might not remember her, but I'm sure I loved her and I still would now.

Having a connection like the one I have to Games makes them even more real, and that's why I've planned on what I'd do if I were to get reaped in the Games ever since I found out about what happened to my mother. This planning kept me up for most of the night, just as it has every year on the night before the reaping.

"You didn't need to make breakfast," Dad says. "I could've made it for you."

"It's alright, I needed to get my mind off of things," I tell him. I bring over the bowls of oatmeal and set them on the table.

"So, what's your plan if you get reaped?" Dad asks. It looks as if he's had a great weight lifted off his shoulders, like he's been dying to ask me that very question. He never has asked it before; we both avoid the subject of the Hunger Games at all costs. But I suppose it's been long enough since Mom died that it's time to talk.

"Well, I'd avoid the bloodbath for sure," I tell him. "Maybe ally with someone useful."

Dad nods. "If you're reaped…" he begins. "I don't know what I'd do if you don't make it back."

My throat starts to swell with the threat of tears forming in my eyes. "If I get reaped, I'll make it back. I'm prepared, Dad."

He nods again. "I just hope that doesn't happen. You're all I have, Quin. I can't go through a loss like that again."

"I won't let that happen, Dad," I tell him, more forcefully than I mean to. "Can we please stop talking about this?"

"Alright, Quin," he sighs shakily.

We eat the rest of our breakfast in silence. I get up to clean the dishes, but Dad insists that since I made breakfast, he'll clean it up. Besides, I need to get ready for the reaping.

I head to the bathroom to bathe, brush my teeth, and maybe fix my usually unkempt hair. Afterwards, I throw on a white shirt and a pair of overalls. I say goodbye to my dad and head out to the town square. I meet up with some friends along the way, and we head to the seventeen-year-olds section.

Our escort, Sevelina Carnation steps up to the microphone.

"Greetings, District Seven," she says in a poor attempt at our accent, followed by a short titter. "You all look so wonderful this year! Are we ready for the reaping?"

It really doesn't matter if we're ready or not, because she gives her speech and walks over to the reaping bowl anyway.

"Boys first this year!" she says, opening the slip of paper. "Quin Emery."

My eyes widen and my jaw drops. Sure, I've been preparing and almost expecting to get reaped. I never thought it would actually happen, though.

I make my way quietly to the stage and turn to the crowd. I search for my Dad in the cluster of adults and find him towards the back. His hand is on his forehead and he has a pained look on his face.

His words echo in my head:_ "You're all I have, Quin. I can't go through a loss like that again."_ Well, Dad, you won't have to. I won't let history repeat itself and leave you with twice as much loss. I'm going to win. For myself, for Dad, and most of all, for the memory of Mom.

**Blythe Cronin's POV**

I watch as Quin Emery, a muscular, handsome, well-liked guy takes his place on that awful stage. His mom died in the Hunger Games a while back. The whole district knows about it. Most of Panem probably remembers it.

"That's no coincidence that both he and his mom were reaped," I snort to my friend, Dixie. "It's got to be fixed. All those papers probably have the same name on them. They want him in the Games. Make things more interesting."

"Blythe!" she hisses. "Don't say such things, or you'll be guaranteed a spot on that stage."

I shrug. "I probably already am. I've disrespected the Capitol quite a lot in my lifetime and gotten off pretty easy. Maybe that'll be my punishment."

"With a mouth like yours, I wouldn't be surprised," Dixie whispers. She's right; my tongue has always been uncontrollable, especially when I'm angry and its fire is directed at the Capitol.

"Blythe Cronin," the escort shouts. We've been too busy talking to even see her pull out my slip from the girls reaping ball, but I hear my name loud and clear.

Dixie turns to me, eyes wide. "Oh, Blythe, you were right."

My face turns into a scowl. I knew it. I knew I couldn't get away with such slanderous comments with little to no punishments. This is the ultimate punishment. The Capitol is the one laughing now. I angrily stomp my way up to the stage and take my place.

"Hello, darling," the escort chirps as I walk up the steps. "How lovely!"

"Shut it," I growl at her through clenched teeth.

"Looks like we have a feisty little one here!" she smiles.

I narrow my eyes at her, but she doesn't notice. I shake hands with Quin, gripping his hand a little too firmly, and am taken into the Justice Building. I'm shown to my room where I'll say my goodbyes to my friends and family.

"Blythe!" I hear my mother cry before the door is even shut. She and Dad come bursting into the room. They wrap me in a hug and we remain like this for a while.

"I'm so sorry," I tell them, finally breaking the silence. "I should have learned to keep my mouth shut."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Dad asks.

"Being reaped was obviously my punishment for being so outspoken. I mean, think about it. It all adds up. I've rarely been punished whenever a Peacekeeper heard my comments, and when I have been, it's been mild. Plus, Quin Emery was reaped. You can't tell me that wasn't fixed," I blurt out, clasping my hand over my mouth. "There I go again."

"Oh, sweetie," my mom says, tears streaking her face. "What's done is done. You can't help who you are. All that matters is getting back to us."

I inhale shakily. "I will. Trust me, I will. I promise you."

The three of us hug one last time and we share our I-love-yous and the Peacekeeper comes to escort them out.

My next visitors are Dixie and my other friend, Thalia. They run in and embrace me just as my parents did.

"Blythe, you were right. The reapings were fixed. I'm so sorry for mocking you about it," Dixie says.

"Shh, you don't want people to hear you! It gets you in trouble," I tell her.

She nods slightly and bows her head to hide her face from me. Thalia pulls something out of the pocket of her skirt.

"Here, Blythe," she says, holding out her hand. "Your district token."

I look at her hand and see a homemade bracelet woven out of grass, decorated with several tiny beads. I recognize it; it's the bracelet we found out in the forest a few years ago.

"Thalia…are you sure?" I breathe. I know how much this bracelet must mean to her.

"Positive. Please, take it. Hopefully when you look at it, you'll be reminded of all the fun we had here in District Seven," she smiles. She's lying, though; there's very little fun here. But the day we found that bracelet was an exception. It was the day we became friends.

"Thank you," I somehow manage to smile, pulling the bracelet over my hand and onto my wrist.

The Peacekeeper comes to take my friends away, but I can't see them go. They've been two of the only people who've chosen to stay close to me after they've heard my outbursts. They mean the world to me, and I'll fight through these Games to make it back to them. I want to prove to the Capitol that a little support from loved ones can motivate you to overcome the odds.

**DISTRICT EIGHT REAPINGS**

**Airley Brackenfall's POV**

I quietly climb out my bedroom window, and as soon as my feet hit the ground, I take off. The first hints of the sunrise are beginning to appear in the east, and I have to run as fast as I can if I want to make it back before my parents wake. Not that I really have to worry about that, since my mother is practically glued to her bed and my father is out working at all hours. I fly through the side streets, determined to get to the back door of the pharmacy before 5 a.m. I promised Gideon, the pharmacist's son, that I'd be there before 5, but I overslept and have to make up time. I hate making him wait, but not as much as I hate waiting for my next fix. It won't be long now.

Finally, I see alley that leads to the rear door of the pharmacy. I climb the two steps and give the signal—knock, knock, knock-knock—and Gideon opens the door slightly, peeking through the crack to make sure it's me. He slips out the door and stands in front of me, a paper bag in his hand. Gideon is a tall, lanky nineteen-year-old boy who isn't necessarily the most attractive guy. He's got green eyes, plain brown hair, and a hooked nose. I'm not sure if I like him or not, but I need to act like it. It's part of the arrangement we've had for the past three years. I flirt with him; he gives me what I need. Everyone wins.

"So, Gideon," I purr, running my index finger up and down his chest. "You got the supplies?"

He holds the bag up. "Of course."

I snatch the bag from his hand. I peer into the bag and find that he's given me extra. When I look back up at him, he grins.

"Look, it's reaping day, and I figured I'd give you a little treat," he shrugs.

"Now I owe you," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"We'll discuss it another day. Just enjoy it for now," he grins

"Thank you," I smile. I most certainly will.

"You better get going. It's probably quarter after five," he says.

I bid him goodbye, and take off into the streets. At the speed I'm going, I should be home around 5:30. I'll be cutting it close, but I should be okay.

I approach my window, but it's closed. Did I close it? Maybe, but it shouldn't be locked. I try pushing it up, but it won't open. Who locked it? My head turns from side to side, checking to see if anyone's around. Then I see him. A Peacekeeper, patrolling the street that runs perpendicular to this one. He must've shut the window. I run around the side of the building and throw open the door to the apartment building. Luckily, my parents and I live on the first floor. I run down the hall and try opening the door, but that's locked, too. I begin to panic when I hear the door of the apartment next to ours open. I can't be caught with my precious gift. I'll be arrested, or worse, Gideon will stop giving it me and I'll never see it again. A head pokes out and looks around. When her eyes land on me, I breathe a sigh of relief. It's only Plia, my best friend.

"Airley?" she whispers. "What are you doing?"

"I got locked out," I shrug nonchalantly.

"What were you doing out in the first place?"

"Well I couldn't sleep since it's reaping day, so I figured I'd go for a walk," I say. "You know, get my mind off things."

"What's in the bag?" Plia asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

I sigh. I hate lying to Plia. It doesn't get me anywhere, and she's smart enough to see right through me.

"Morphling."

"I knew it," she says flatly. "Your skin is yellowing, your eyes are starting to change, and you're always running around town. Who's your supplier?"

"I won't tell you that," I say, my eyes narrowing. I already owe Gideon; I can't afford to have him arrested.

"Fair enough," she shrugs. "But why do you take it?"

"You know why," I sigh. I take morphling because it's my escape. Back when I was nine, my little brother Tomlin was stricken with measles and died. My mother faded away into her own little world and rarely leaves her bedroom. My father works long hours in the factory to compensate for my mother. He's barely ever home, and when he is, he rarely speaks. I rarely speak to either of my parents, really. Ever since Tomlin's death, I've spiraled into a depression, which I've disguised with my usual smile and wide circle of friends. Only Plia knows what lies behind my mask.

"Morphling isn't the answer, Airley," she says, walking over to me, attempting to sound gentle but authoritative, like a mother explaining to their child why they shouldn't do something. But I can hear the underlying worry in her voice. "Not only is it illegal, but it's dangerous."

"I know, but what else can I do?" I ask her, sounding more upset than I mean to. "It's the only way I can cope."

I turn back to the door, picking the lock with my thumbnail. Surely it's six o'clock by now. I shut the door and run silently into my bedroom. I shut the door behind me, and sit down on the carpet. I dump the bag upside-down, allowing its contents to spill onto the floor. I pick up a needle and inject the sweet morphling into my bloodstream. I pack the rest of the contents back into the bag and toss it under my bed, before climbing back under the covers and allowing myself to enjoy the sweet dreams morphling brings.

When my father awakens me, I find that I've overslept. I throw on a dull gray dress and black shoes. I brush my hair quickly and run to my parents' bedroom to bid them goodbye before running out the door.

As I leave the apartment building, I see several girls from my class leaving the nearby apartments and strike up a conversation with them. We approach the town square and take our places in the sixteen-year-olds' section. I find Plia and stand next to her.

Before either of us can say a word, Ignatius Cabot, District Eight's escort, taps the microphone.

"Hello, District Eight!" he bellows. "We are gathered here for the annual reaping. It is a time of repentance, and a time of thanks." Ignatius continues with the speech and says the dreaded words: "Ladies first!" He walks over to the reaping bowl and selects the first slip of paper that he touches. "Airley Brackenfall!"

My heart pounds in my throat, and I can feel tears swimming in my eyes. I feel people pushing me into the aisle, and I don't stop them. I begin walking towards the stage when the first tear dribbles down my cheek. I wipe it away before anyone can see, but I'm sure everyone in Panem will think I'm a crybaby. I mount the stage and take my place next to Ignatius.

I begin thinking about what I'll do in the Games. How am I supposed to kill other innocent children? Surely some of them will find no trouble in doing this. As for me? I'm sure that if I kill anyone, I'll be plagued with nightmares and guilt that not even morphling could keep away for long. How could the Capitol be so sick and cruel as to pit 24 children against each other in a fight to the death?

**Thread West's POV**

I watch Airley Brackenfall, one of the most popular girls in the district, march to her imminent death. It's sad, really. She's a very sweet girl, from what I hear. Not that I've ever spoken to her.

Airley wipes a tear from her cheek as she steps onto the stage. Ignatius Cabot walks over to the boys' reaping bowl and digs around for a bit, before finally settling on which slip of paper to select. He walks over to the microphone and shouts, "Thread West!"

Now normally, you would think I'd be upset or sad. But here's the thing: I'm not. Don't get me wrong; I'm not happy either. I'm just…confident. Some might say I'm arrogant, but I really believe I have a better chance than the little twelve years olds who cry and don't have a clue what they're going to do. I manage to walk up to the stage with a straight face and take my place quite easily by telling myself this. I shake hands with Airley. I can't help but notice the strange marks that cover her wrist and the yellow skin which surrounds them. But before I have time to really think about it, we're being bustled into the Justice Building. I sit down on the gray couch and wait for my first visitors. My parents walk in, sobbing hysterically.

"Thread, how can you be so calm?" Mom asks. "You were just reaped!"

"I know, Mom. But I think I can win," I tell her.

"How?"

"Well, I've got an eye for detail, I'm not totally weak, and I've got some brains," I explain. "Plus, there will be three days of training to learn whatever I don't already know."

Dad pats me on the back. "Always the optimist, aren't we?" he says sadly. Unfortunately, I seem to be the only one.

I hug my parents goodbye, just in time for the Peacekeeper to come and escort them out.

My next visitors are my two friends, Blaine and Rachel. They fly into the room, hugging me tightly.

"I should have volunteered for you," Blaine whispers in my ear.

"No," I tell him. "I have a better shot at winning than you would."

Blaine's lip quivers, and I kiss him right here in the Justice Building.

"I've always loved you, Blaine," I smile weakly. "I'm sorry I never had the nerve to tell you before."

"Thread, I'm sorry…" he starts. "But I love someone else."

My heart snaps, and for the first time all day, tears begin to form in my eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, hugging me one last time before walking out the door in shame.

I look over at Rachel, whose eyes are wide with shock and sympathy. "I didn't know you loved him, Thread."

"Did you know that he doesn't love me?" I ask her.

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Thread." She hugs me one last time before heading out the door.

I sit back down on the couch and bury my face in my hands. I'm glad I professed my feelings to Blaine, but I'm mortified that he doesn't love me back. Suddenly, I think of the perfect way to get him back. I'll get with someone else during the Games. I'll make Blaine jealous, and he'll realize that he truly does love me. When I get back from my victory, we can finally be together.

**DISTRICT NINE REAPINGS**

**Bryn Curry's POV**

It's a sweltering hot day here in District Nine. My parents and I made sure we opened all the windows before going to bed last night, but this morning must be well over 100 degrees. My twin baby brothers have been up all night screaming and crying, and no one has gotten much sleep.

I head to the bathroom to get ready for the reaping. I bathe in a basin of water, then throw my damp dirty-blonde hair into a ponytail. I brush my teeth and look in the mirror. My light brown eyes have rings around them from lack of sleep, but I don't really mind, since I'm just helping my parents out.

I walk into the kitchen, but there are no signs of breakfast. I shrug it off, since if I'm reaped, I'll be eating on the train to the Capitol, anyway. If I'm not reaped, there will always be lunch.

I head into the twins' nursery, where my parents and siblings are all asleep. I decide against waking them; after such a horrendous night, they deserve a little extra sleep instead of a day full of nerves and uncertainty. So I simply kiss each of them on the forehead leave the house on my own.

Outside is even hotter than inside, if that's possible. Children all around walk slowly—even more slowly than usual on reaping days—towards the town square, sweating profusely. My next-door neighbor, Clarence Klaxon steps out of his house and sees me.

"Hey, Bryn!" he waves. Clarence is only thirteen, but he looks like he could be fifteen. However, he acts like he's a young child. He's clumsy, quiet, and shy, but he's still a nice kid.

"Hi, Clarence," I smile. "Ready for the reaping?"

He shudders. "Not at all."

"Me neither," I tell him. With the twins to look after, neither I nor my parents have given it much thought, but now that I'm here, the horrible thought of being picked is hard to keep out of my mind.

We walk to the town square together, not because we're best friends or anything, but we're friends enough to go to the reaping together. We wave goodbye as I head off to the fifteen-year-olds' section and he to the thirteen-year-olds. I take my place just in time for the escort to give his speech. As soon as he finishes, he heads over to the reaping bowl and plucks out a slip from deep in the bowl.

"Bryn Curry!"

My eyes flutter shut, and I feel myself hit the ground.

**Clarence Klaxon's POV**

Not Bryn. Why her? She's one of the only people in this world that I even consider my friend. I look over at the fifteen-year-old girls and watch Bryn collapse to the ground. She's fainted in front of all of Panem. Whether it's from shock, heat, lack of food, or lack of sleep, I'll never know. A couple of Peacekeepers walk over and pick her up, carrying her straight into the Justice Building.

The escort shrugs off the scene that just happened and shuffles right over to the reaping bowl, fixing his sadistic grin back into place. He snatches the first paper at the top of the bowl, trying to hurry to get the attention off of Bryn.

"Clarence Klaxon!"

I being shaking and crying immediately. I walk up to the stage, not caring that I'll be labeled an easy target. Not only does this mean my likely death, but it means I'll have to fight against Bryn.

I stand on the stage for a few seconds before I'm taken into the Justice Building. I sit down on the orange couch as the tears continue to fall. My parents walk in the room, but I don't get up. They sit on either side of me and hug me for a while. They tell me that they love me and will be rooting for me. I return their love, and the Peacekeeper appears at the door to take them away.

Jeffrey, my only friend other than Bryn, walks in the door.

"Wow, man... This…sucks," he says, his shocked mind struggling to find the words to sum up all of this.

"You're telling me," I grumble.

"At least you're not totally hopeless, though," he tells me.

"How so?"I rub my eyes and look up at him curiously.

"Well, you've got some experience with a sickle. Just get your hands on one of those and you're good to go."

"That means going into the bloodbath," I say. "I don't know if I'd be up to that."

"What's the alternative?" Jeff asks. "You run away from the Cornucopia with nothing and you're guaranteed to die of thirst or hunger. That's if another tribute doesn't get to you first."

The Peacekeeper opens the door, signaling Jeffrey to leave.

"Good luck out there, man," he says as the door shuts.

My final visitor is my sixteen-year-old brother, Brock.

"Clancy!" he exclaims, using the nickname that he knows I hate. "Look, bro, it sucks that you got reaped and all, but I need you to do me a favor."

I narrow my eyebrows at him. "How can I possibly do you a favor?"

"Don't kill Bryn."

"I wasn't planning on it," I tell him, sounding a bit hurt and shocked that he could even imagine me doing such a thing. "Why don't you want me to kill her?" Apart giving her a little smile and nod when they see each other round town, he hasn't really met her.

"Because…" he begins, not sure how to say whatever he wants to say. "I love her."

"You've never even spoken to her," I manage to blurt out, not sure of what to make of his sudden confession.

"I know, but I've always wanted to. I just…I'd like to see her win, if you don't," he says.

"Why don't you go visit her now?" I ask him.

"Oh, yeah, I'll just go over and say, 'I know that we've been neighbors our whole lives and I've never spoken to you, but I think I'm in love with you and figured I'd let you know now that you and my little brother were both sentenced to death today.' I don't really think that would go over well, Clarence."

I nod, understanding his hesitation. "Well, Brock, I promise you that I won't kill her."

"Good. Thank you." The Peacekeeper comes to the door, and Brock begins to leave. "Good luck out there, little bro." The door closes behind him, separating me from my friends and family forever.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Here is the link for the blog: _

_deception-44th. blogspot. c_o_m _

_[remove the spaces and underscores, since FF doesn't like links]_


	5. D10, D11, D12 Reapings

_**A/N: **Hello again, readers! Sorry for the long wait, but I've been very busy. Since the last update, I got my driving permit (woohoo!). I haven't been home too much, but I still managed to poop this chapter out._

_A huge thanks to Miss Mockingjay once more, because this chapter was extremely bland before she got her hands on it._

_Since this is the final reaping chapter and all our characters have been introduced, I'll be updating the blog (which is at the bottom of the chapter) with the tributes' strengths and weaknesses. I will also be skipping right ahead to the tribute parade, bypassing the boring train rides._

_I will be away from Friday through Tuesday, so no updates until after I get back (sorry :/) BUT, I already have the parade typed out._

_I am requesting for all readers who have submitted a tribute to message me with who they'd like to have as allies, since we now know all the tributes. No alliances are set in stone (not even the Careers), and you might not get your first choice. If you do not PM me, your tribute will either go solo or I'll decide on my own who they ally with. I plan on forming the alliances in training, and that will be chapter 7. The deadline for alliance requests is Wednesday, July 25th._

_IT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THAT YOU STAY UP-TO-DATE WITH THIS STORY! Add it to your alerts, favorites, or whatever you need to make sure you know when I update. If you want your tribute to live, you need to review so that I know you care. No reviews from the submitter = the death of their tribute._

_One last note (I know, sorry): the results of the poll are in. There will be NO sponsor system. The results were 71% no, 29% yes._

_Now, without further ado, the final reapings!_

* * *

**DISTRICT TEN REAPINGS**

**Karlsson vom Dach's POV**

I'm woken up by my dog, Lillebror, licking my face. She's a sweet little fox terrier, sweeter than a lot of the kids at school. But I am lucky to have the luxury of having any kind of pet. Since my father is the mayor of District Ten, my family is much better off than most families in the district. Being the son of the mayor is both a blessing and a curse. Sure, I'm well-fed, rather wealthy, and have free time to walk Lillebror and read books, but my life is far from being all fun and games. Because I am well-fed, I'm rather chubby. The other kids in school mock me for being large, and despise me for being rich. And of course, there is the imminent threat of the Hunger Games. Being a child of the mayor doesn't make me immune from the reaping later today.

I roll out of bed and walk downstairs into the kitchen. I seem to be the last one awake. My father, older brother, and two younger sisters are already sat around the table. My mother is at the stove, cooking what smells like eggs and bacon. I say good morning to my family and take my seat at the table. My nine-year-old sister asks my twelve-year-old sister if she's nervous for her first year of being eligible for the reaping. Of course she is. But I remain silent, wanting the conversation to be directed away from the reaping as quickly as possible.

My mother carries the plates of bacon and eggs to the table and places them down in front of us. I eat silently while the rest of my family chatters away. I've never been one for talking, but if someone wants to have a conversation with me, I won't turn them down.

I finish eating, place the bowl in my sink, and head upstairs to get ready for the reaping. Only two more years of this nonsense after today and I'm done with the reaping. But my sisters aren't. There really is no breathing space in terms of eligibility, because by the time my youngest sister is too old for the reaping, I'll probably have kids of my own to worry about.

I step out of the shower and comb my auburn hair to look presentable. I brush my teeth, get dressed, and meet my brother and my twelve-year-old sister at the bottom of the staircase. The three of us head out the door to the reaping. We approach the town square, and my brother runs off to be with some of his many friends. I look down at my sister, and she begins shaking.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I…I have a bad feeling about this."

"It's alright, so does everyone else," I smile gently. "You have nothing to worry about. Your name's only in there once."

"I know, but what about you, Karlsson? Your name's in there five times," she whimpers.

I pull her into a hug and rub her back slightly. "I know, but there are thousands of other names in those bowls. The odds are in our favor."

She wipes the tears from her eyes and nods slightly. Sometimes even when you know something is true, you still have to hear someone say it to make you believe it.

"Now we better take our places. I'll meet up with you afterwards, alright?"

She nods again and begins to walk towards the twelve-year-olds. She spots some of her friends and runs off towards them. I sigh, hoping I can find my one and only friend, Remy.

"Karl!" I hear someone call. I hope to Panem it's not one of my mean classmates trying to get my cruelty is the last thing I need today. I turn towards the voice and give a little relieved smile to see Remy waving at me. We try to talk away our nerves for a bit before being interrupted by District Ten's escort giving the annual speech. Before long, she trots over to the reaping bowl.

"Our male tribute is…" she pauses for dramatic effect. "Karlsson vom Dach."

The world crashes around me as I begin to shake. I hear voices hissing around me, "The mayor's son was actually reaped!" "He won't last a day." I begin to tear up a bit at their words, but find the strength to push the tears back down. I take a slow, steady walk up to my imminent death. I look up at my father sitting on the stage, whose eyes are wide even though he tries to remain expressionless. As I take my place on the stage, I see my sister standing with the other twelve-year-olds. She sobs relentlessly as her friends try to calm her down. I look out into the crowd and see my mother clinging tightly to my nine-year-old sister. My dear baby sister, too young to watch her brother die. Well, I won't let her have to witness such a thing. I'll win the Hunger Games. I'll prove to everyone that mocked me for years that if I can overcome their harsh words, I can certainly conquer the Games.

**Elsa Rose's POV**

The mayor's son was just reaped. The mayor's own son! I find Harvey, someone who could be considered a friend, in the crowd. He bites his lip and hangs his head the way he does when he's sad but doesn't want to show it, as his cousin walks to the stage, a single tear escaping down Karlsson's big, round cheeks. Despite knowing Harvey quite well, I know hardly anything about our male tribute, apart from the fact he's a year older than me and that he's Harvey's cousin. I've also heard kids taunting him for his weight. Quite frankly, Karlsson should be proud of his weight. Having enough to eat is a big deal in a poor district like ours. Being chubby is a better status symbol than any fine jewelry; it shows you've been wealthy for a long time. But sadly it'll only hinder his chances of survival in the Games. It's a shame, really. We're due for a victor here. Hopefully our female tribute is one of the muscular working-class girls, and not one of the merchants like me. Who knows, she might even ally with him; he seems nice enough and alliances between district partners are one of the most common.

My train of thought is interrupted by the escort shuffling over to the reaping bowl.

"Our female tribute is…" she purrs. "Elsa Rose."

I close my eyes and exhale deeply. I should have known I'd get reaped sooner or later. My mother's sister was reaped and killed in the Hunger Games about twenty years ago. I suppose it runs in the family.

I accept my fate and make my way towards the stage. I climb the stairs and take my place. Karlsson and I shake hands, and are escorted to our rooms in the Justice Building. I sit on the maroon couch and await my visitors.

My parents and ten-year-old brother, Toby, walk in the door. I stand up and hug each of them.

"Elsa, what will I do without you?" Toby sobs. "Who will stick up for me?"

Toby is constantly picked on in school for no reason. He's too nice of a kid to tell them to stop, so that's been my job for as long as I can remember.

"Well, Toby, if I don't make it back, I want you to tell those kids whatever I'd tell them. You deserve to be treated well, and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. I love you, little buddy," I say as steadily as I can, pulling him into another hug.

Just then, a Peacekeeper opens the door.

"There's no way that was three minutes! I need more time!" I nearly shout at him as my family begins to shuffle out. "Mom, Dad, I love you both!"

"I love you too, Elsa!" they shout back as the door closes behind them.

I slump back on the couch. The door opens again, and in walks my one and only friend, Harvey. He runs over and embraces me in a tight hug.

"Elsa, I can't believe this. How could this happen? I'll either lose my cousin, my best friend, or both," he whispers as he hugs me.

My eyes widen as the fact that I'm now pitted against Karlsson sinks in. There is no way I can kill him. If I do that and come home, Harvey would never forgive me.

"Don't worry; I could never kill him," I whisper back.

He sighs. "If you need to kill him to win, you'll have to do it. I wouldn't blame you."

"I could never bring myself to kill a member of your family, Harvey," I gasp in disbelief at how he's putting my well-being before one of his own relative's.

"I know you wouldn't," he shakes his head, trying to shake the horrible thought from his mind. "I…I just want you to come back. Be careful, alright? Make it back alive."

"I'll try my best," I smile.

The Peacekeeper opens the door again.

"Listen, Elsa, get a knife and a backpack at the Cornucopia, and book it out of there, alright?" he says hastily. Two Peacekeepers walk in and grab him by the arms. "I'll go around town and set up a collection to sponsor you and Karlsson! Good luck!"

"Harvey, wait!" I call. "I have to tell you that—"

The door shuts before I can finish my sentence.

"I love you,"I whisper to the empty space he was in moments ago, moments I'll never get back.

**DISTRICT ELEVEN REAPINGS**

**Alanna Lockheart's POV**

"Oh, Alanna, your dress is beginning to fray at the bottom," my mother says as we walk down the street towards my best friend Maria's house. Her family invites my mother and me to eat breakfast there every year before the reaping. It's only the two of us, ever since Dad was killed by tracker jackers four years ago, and money is hard to come by. So, as a nice gesture, Maria's family has us over to eat quite fact, with Mom out working for hours on end, I practically live there.

"It's fine. I only need to wear it once more after today," I shrug, never the type to fuss about petty things. Especially on a day like the reaping day, when I have much more important things to worry about. Like, oh, I don't know, being dragged from my home into the wilderness to die! But I keep my mouth shut as she goes on.

"Maybe I should get you a new dress next year. I'm sure you won't grow too much anymore," she says gently. My height used to be a touchy subject, since I'm rather short for my age, but I've gotten used to it.

"I don't need a new dress. I'll only wear it once, and I'd rather have food on the table," I explain as calmly as I can. My mother and my friends are the only people who don't have to deal with my horrible attitude. I've always spoken my mind and lashed out at others with sarcastic comments, but my mother is too fragile to be treated in such a manner and my friends never put me in a bad mood.

We approach the door to Maria's house and knock gently. Maria opens the door with a smile.

"Morning, Mrs. Lockheart. Hey, Alanna. Come in," she greets, opening the door wider. "Breakfast should be ready in a couple of minutes."

My mother heads towards the kitchen to help Maria's mom prepare breakfast, and I sit down on the couch in the living room with Maria.

"I love your dress," I tell her. It's a sleeveless, lavender-colored cotton dress that stops right above her knee. It contrasts with her dark skin and dark hair, making the dress appear to glow. Maybe a new dress isn't such a bad thing.

"Thank you," she smiles. "My parents bought it for me for my birthday. I like your dress, too."

I snort. "No you don't. Do you see this ratty thing? I've been wearing it every reaping day since I was twelve."

"It might be old, but it suits you. The red looks nice on you. It's a little old, but maybe we can make you look a bit nicer by fixing your hair all nice," Maria smiles, her eyes pleading me to let her do my hair. I have it left down in its natural short blonde waves, which I think is just fine; it's always been just fine like that. But since it's reaping day, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to do something nice with it.

"Okay," I tell her.

She clasps her hands together in excitement. "Great! I'll be right back." She runs to her room and comes back with a couple of hair pins and a brush. Maria gently brushes the hair on the top half of my head, gathers it together, and pins it. She brings me her father's shaving mirror and lets me look at my reflection, and my hair is lovely. It's simple, but it's lovely.

"Girls, breakfast is ready," Maria's mother calls from the kitchen. We walk through the doorway and see Maria's father sitting at the table.

"Morning, Alanna," he greets.

"Good morning," I smile.

Maria and I sit down as our mothers bring over the plates of food. We all eat rather quickly, chatting occasionally throughout the meal. Before long, Maria and I need to head out to the reaping.

"Alanna!" I hear a male voice call as we step out the door. I look up and see my friend, Jonothan, stepping out of his house across the street. I'm not surprised that he chose this exact time to leave his house. He is obsessed with me and seems to follow me everywhere. Don't get me wrong; Jonothan is a good friend. He's nothing but nice, but I'm in love with someone else. Not that I'm going to tell him and break his heart anytime time soon; I couldn't hurt him like that.

"Hey, Jon," I wave. He joins Maria and me on our walk to the town square. We make idle chat for about a block before I see _him_.

Kyle, the strong, funny, kind boy I've been friends with for years, waits for the three of us at the corner of the street ahead of us. His usually messy blonde hair is combed nicely, showing off his sparkling blue eyes. I silently swoon over him as we approach the street corner.

"Hey, Kyle," I grin widely.

"Morning, Alanna. Your hair looks nice today," he smiles back.

"Thanks, Maria did it for me."

We continue with the small talk for the rest of the walk to the town square. We chat about anything and everything other than the reaping. None of us are rich enough to avoid taking tesserae, and since we're all seventeen, we're at a very high risk of getting reaped.

The four of us approach the town square, and my stomach twists in knots. Maria and I head off to the seventeen-year-old girls as Kyle and Jonothan make their way towards the boys. As we take our places, the escort steps up to the microphone.

"Hello, District Eleven!" he bellows. "It's good to be back for another year of the Hunger Games." He continues on with his speech until finally saying, "Now, let's change things up and choose the boys first this year, shall we?" he asks, not waiting for an answer as he saunters over to the reaping bowl and selects a slip from the bottom of the bowl. "Reed Wallace."

I let out a breath of relief that neither of my friends were reaped and watch the chubby little boy make his way out of the thirteens and into the aisle. He surprisingly doesn't cry, but looks upset. He watches his shoes for the duration of his walk and refuses to look up once he's on the stage.

"Now for the girls!" the escort claps his hands together. He walks over to the reaping bowl and digs around dramatically before finally making his selection. "Alanna Lockheart."

I look at Maria next to me, whose jaw is dropped and hand is gripping my upper arm tightly. I gently pry her fingers off and begin making my way towards the aisle between the boys and girls. As I am about to step into the aisle, I look up and lock eyes with Kyle. His eyebrows are knitted in concern and he looks genuinely upset. I feel a single tear roll down my cheek before wiping it away hastily. As I begin my long walk up the aisle, my thoughts overcome me. What will my mother do without me? Surely Maria's family will take her in. But she'll be even more distant and fragile than when she lost my father. She'll have no family left. I must win. I'll come back for her, for Maria, for Jonothan, and for Kyle.

**Reed Wallace's POV**

"Reed Wallace."

That's my name. I was just reaped for the Hunger Games. How can this be? I'm only thirteen. Sure, I've had to take out enough tesserae for my mother, two siblings, and myself, but that's still less than some of the eighteen-year-olds who need to take out tesserae for families of seven or eight.

I push my glasses up and step out into the aisle. I refuse to cry. It's bad enough that I'm a fat little thirteen-year-old with next to zero chance of winning in the eyes of potential sponsors. I step onto the stage and refuse to look at anyone. If I do, I'm guaranteed to cry.

I hear the escort walk over to the girls' reaping bowl and select this year's female tribute. He walks back to the microphone and reads the name, "Alanna Lockheart."

I look up at the sound of the name. Her father and my father were good friends and were working partners. One horrible day four years ago, the two of them were ordered to remove a tracker jacker nest high up in a tree. My father was sawing it down as Alanna's father was supporting his legs, when the nest fell on the branch that Mr. Lockheart was standing on. He received multiple stings and died on the spot. Without the support of Mr. Lockheart, my father fell and landed on his neck, ending his life.

I watch Alanna walk up to the stage. I've never seen her before; I only know the connection between her father and mine. She's rather short, but she's much older than I am. Her wavy blonde hair is pulled away from her face, though I can tell she wishes it was covered. She looks up at me, making eye contact. My expression must match hers: one of worry, sorrow, and even a bit of there's not even the slightest hint of recognition, which suggests that she is completely unaware of the connection between us. Alanna takes her place on the stage and looks out into the crowd towards the boys. I don't know who she's looking at, but it's probably her boyfriend.

Alanna and I shake hands and are rushed into the Justice Building. I'm led into a room to await my visitors. Minutes later, my mother, brother, and sister enter. They run over and hug me all at once. We remain this way for a while, until my mother breaks away.

"Reed, take this as your token," she says, pulling out the small medal my grandmother gave me right before she died. I loved my grandmother dearly, more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. She was famous in the district for being one of the last living people who remembered the Dark Days and the rebellion. She would tell me stories of her childhood with such detail that if I closed my eyes, I would think I was there with her. Last winter, my grandmother was stricken with a terrible illness that the local doctor categorized as pneumonia. She died just days after being diagnosed. The day before my grandmother died, I spent all my free time at her bedside. She told me the last of her stories and gave me the greatest piece of advice that I've ever received: _"Whatever you do in your life, do it with all your heart. Never change who you are, Reed. You're a wonderful young man who can bring so much good into this world that is wrought with evil."_ She gave me a small medal and told me to go to sleep. The next morning, she was gone.

"Thank you, Mama," I breathe, taking the medal from her hands.

"Grandma will be watching over you in the arena, Reed. She'll keep you safe," my mother says, embracing me in another hug. My brother and sister each hug me once more. I tell each of them how much I love them as the Peacekeeper takes them out the door.

My next visitor is my friend, Ronaldo. He's a rather quiet kid, but we get along well.

"Reed, you can win," he says,putting on a convincing show of confidence.

"What? How?"

"Well, you're sneaky. You've been stealing crops for as long as I can remember. You can probably steal other tributes' supplies easily," Ronaldo explains, a tiny smile flashing across his face as he remembers the first time he caught me, the day we became friends.

"How am I supposed to kill, Ron? I won't win without killing," I cry.

"Worry about that later. What matters most is survival. If you can't survive on your own, how will you make it far enough into the Games to worry about killing?" he responds.

"I guess you're right…" I trail off. "But how will I be able to defend myself?"

"You'll learn what you need in the Capitol," he says plainly. The Peacekeeper comes to the door to take Ronaldo out. "Good luck, Reed."

The door shuts behind him, closing off all contact with my life in District Eleven.

**DISTRICT TWELVE REAPINGS**

**Tymia Lixe's POV**

I wake up to a growling in my stomach. I pull my knees up to my chest and sigh. The last meal I'd eaten was supper two days ago, and all we had was bread made from tesserae grain. I open my eyes and see first hints of the sunrise in the sky.

"Tymia?" my older sister rasps.

"Yes?"

"Why are you up so early?" she asks quietly from the bed next to mine.

"I can't sleep. I'm so hungry," I whisper so as to not awaken my younger brother who is sharing a bed with me.

"We'll get food soon. Just try to go back to sleep," she says sweetly but firmly. I wish I could believe her.

I roll onto my other side and close my eyes. I try desperately to find sleep, but I simply lie there, thoughts about food and what could happen today running through my head for an hour or two before I must get up to get ready for the reaping. My sister gives me her lacy white dress to wear to the reaping. It's the nicest piece of clothing anyone in the family owns,and I put it on very carefully as if it's made glass and could shatter at any minute. My mother brushes my hair and ties a simple white ribbon in it. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. My father opens the door and invites the guest in.

"Hi, Tymia."

My head whips around at the sound of the voice. Olliy, my boyfriend, stands in the the sight of him banishes my hunger to the back of my mind as I go over to give him a little kiss hello.

"You ready to go?" he asks.

I nod my head, and we walk out the door.

"You look really beautiful in that dress," Olliy says as we walk down the street, his hand in mine.

"Thank you," I smile. I'm not a big talker, and that's okay with Olliy. All we need is each other's presence to be happy. Except today there's uneasiness in the air. This year, I've had to single-handedly provide tesserae for my family without my sister's help. My chances of being reaped are through the roof. The odds are not in my favor.

This thought plays on my mind as we exit the Seam and make our way to the square. I begin to get worried about being reaped, because I'm not sure how I'd handle myself, what I'd do in the Games, or how my family and Olliy would survive without me.

The town square begins to get closer and closer. Before I know it, Olliy and I need to part ways.

"Good luck, Tymia. I'll meet you after the reaping, alright?" Olliy says. Anyone would think he was perfectly calm. He doesn't sound nervous or fidget like everyone else, but I know him better than just anyone. The usual light has gone from his dark brown eyes, making them look almost black, and his mouth is set in a firm, serious line. I hate seeing him like this; all the reason I can't wait for today to be over.

I nod, and he places a kiss on my lips before walking over to the boys. I take my place with my fellow seventeen-year-old girls just as the escort, Trisha Canterbury takes the stage.

"Hello, District Twelve," she says, almost irritated. I guess she should be. Anyone who has to come here from the Capitol usually is. "Today is the reaping for the 44th Annual Hunger Games, where we will select one courageous young man and one courageous young woman to represent District Twelve." Trisha continues with the speech and finally makes her way over to the girls' reaping bowl,not bothering to waste any more time teasing us by wafting her hand over the bowl. She dives straight in and trots over the microphone with the cursed name in her hand. She clears her throat and reads, "Tymia Lixe."

I stiffen up. Yes, the odds of me being reaped were incredibly high, but I didn't actually think it would happen. I straighten up and walk somewhat confidently up to the stage. Once I take my place, I refuse to look at anyone in the crowd. I look out into the distance, at the peaks of the mountains on the horizon. Oh, how great it would be to get away from this. Of course, for all I know, those mountains could be the location of this year's arena. My stomach rumbles, interrupting my thoughts. _At least I'll get to eat_, I think to myself. Maybe I can eat enough to build up strength to win this year's Games. I've got to make it back to my family, to make sure they never need to skip a meal againand the emptiness in the pit of their stomachs will become a distant memory.

**Ian Redstone's POV**

Tymia Lixe. I don't know her, but I recognize the name. She's your typical Seam girl: underfed, wide-eyed, and determined. She's older than me by a couple of years and looks strong-willed and fierce. I'd say she has as good a chance as anyone at winning this year's Games, which would be excellent for District since the Games started it's been an almost certain death sentence for us, with only one victor sitting on the stage. Perhaps this girl could change that.

Trisha Canterbury, District Twelve's escort, scuttles over to the boys' reaping bowl,trying to spend as little time here as possible. "Ian Redstone," she announces.

Maybe I've heard her wrong, but did Trisha just say my name? Kids around me begin to look my way, so I guess she did. I make my way out into the aisle, determined not to cry. Tymia walked to the stage with determination, so why shouldn't I? As I mount the steps, I feel Tymia's eyes boring into me. I look up and see her with a deadly look on her face. She's probably already trying to figure out how to kill me. I shake her hand, and we're shoved into the Justice Building to await our final visitors.

My parents walk in with my twelve-year-old brother. I remember being his age when my older brother was reaped for the 41st Hunger Games. He died in the bloodbath trying to collect as many weapons and supplies as possible. I won't make the same mistake as he did.

My family hugs me, kisses me, and tells me how much they love me, all of which I return. My father gives me a pin with an eagle on it that's been passed down in the family for generations, when the Peacekeeper comes in to take them away from me forever.

My older sister, her husband, and their daughter come to visit me next.

"Uncle Ian!" my niece shouts, running into my arms. "Are you gonna be in the Hunger Games?"

"Yes, I am," I say with as much of a smile as I can muster.

"Please don't die," she sobs, burrowing her head into my shirt. She knows more about the Games than I did at her age.

"I'll try not to," I whisper, knowing that's the only promise I can make.

The Peacekeeper comes again. I hug my sister goodbye as she and her family are dragged out the door.

My final visitors are my best friends, James and Haley. Haley, with her beautiful blue eyes and flowing brown hair, is the love of my life. I've been trying to tell her this for years, but could never muster up the courage. If she doesn't feel the same, our friendship would be destroyed. If I keep quiet about my feelings, at least I can have her as friend.

"Oh, Ian!" she sobs, flinging herself into my arms. "You've got to come home. What would I ever do without you?"

"I'll try my best, Haley. I'll do whatever I need to make it back," I tell her, hugging back, breathing in the smell of her hair.

"Good luck, Ian," James says. We'll see you in a couple of weeks, right?"

"Whether it's in a wooden box or in person, I guess I will," I sigh. "I'll miss you guys so much. You mean the world to me."

They each hug me again, and I can't hold it in any longer.

"Haley, in case I don't make it back—" I start, but am interrupted by the Peacekeeper. "Haley!"

She turns around and looks me in the eyes before the door is slammed shut between us, keeping my love for her a secret. I slump down onto the sofa. If I win, I can finally tell her my true feelings for her. We can be together. Suddenly, a sense of determination washes over me. I will win this year's Games.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Here is the link for the blog:_

_deception-44th. blogspot. c_o_m_

_[remove the spaces and underscores, since FF doesn't like links]_


	6. Tribute Parade

_**A/N:** I know what you're thinking: a new update already? Well, thanks to the fabulous Miss Mockingjay for getting this back to me so quickly, here you have it: the Tribute Parade!_

_A friendly reminder: if you haven't already, PM me with your tribute's top choices for allies. Make sure to review so that I know you're staying up-to-date with the story. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Head Gamemaker Luna Pavo's POV**

The reapings yesterday went just as planned. Twenty-three impending deaths, one future victor. Tonight we will present the tributes in a parade down the main street of the Capitol, right up to President Snow's mansion. It will be a chance for the tributes to represent their district, and a chance for potential sponsors to have a first look at the tributes in the Capitol.

My assistant, Io, opens the door to the balcony. I step outside and am greeted with applause from the crowd. I take my seat and await District One's chariot.

The doors of the Training Center burst open. District One's chariot enters the street. The girl, with her shoulder-length blonde hair flowing in the breeze, dazzles the crowd in her gown adorned with jewels of all kinds. The boy wears a complementary suit with a tie that matches his eyes. The girl blows kisses and waves flirtatiously at the crowd, while the boy gives the audience a goofy grin. The Capitol goes wild for the pair, as they usually do. With the high expectations and the stunning costumes, the luxury district almost immediately sets the bar, only making the bad costumes look even worse.

The District Two tributes exit the Training Center. The girl, who happens to be this year's youngest tribute, glares icily at the crowd. Her arms are folded across her chest in annoyance, and she has every right to be. This year, the tributes from Two are dressed in skin-tight full-body suits that look like granite. The boy pulls it off well, his muscles rippling in all the right places, but the girl looks very young; almost too young to be in the Games. Her curves have not yet developed, making her look no older than ten, although she looks far from innocent. Her evil glare makes more of a statement than any extravagant outfit. The boy gives the crowd a winning grin and waves at the young ladies nearby, who scream his name.I see Io give an amused smirk from the corner of my eye; there's always one tribute the young girls of the Capitol fall in love with, but unless he wins, they'll find a new object for their affection next year.

District Three's chariot rolls out of the Training Center. The pair this year is rather young; the girl is thirteen and the boy is fourteen. It is a surprise to see the two somewhat scantily-clad. Their stylists have wrapped them in nothing but black wire, putting more wire on their torsos and upper legs and less wire on their limbs. They both give weak smiles and waves, and the audience claps politely, but I know they're just awaiting the next chariot. The wires are becoming predictable now; they haven't had anything original since those ridiculous television hats six years ago.

The tributes from Four enter the street dressed like they just came out of the ocean. The boy wears a wetsuit that shines as if he were sopping wet, when in reality, he's totally dry. The girl wears a bikini top and a mermaid tail with seaweed woven in her blonde hair. She stares into the crowd, looking fierce. The boy, however, smiles and waves. The crowd cheers for them, as District Four is almost always a fan-favorite.

District Five rolls onto the street looking rather plain. They're donned in yellow radiation suits with the headpiece tucked in the crook of their elbows. The boy waves at the crowd, giving a sweet half-smile, while the girl beams at the crowd, genuinely enjoying the attention. Despite their horrible costumes, the audience cheers loudly for the pair,their charisma more than making up for it.

The District Six tributes are not the best-dressed, either. The boy is dressed as a train conductor and the tiny girl is dressed as a traffic light. Neither costume is flattering, and they certainly don't match each other. The boy awkwardly waves to the crowd and the girl smiles shyly at the crowd. The audience claps politely, but they're hardly crazy for these tributes when it comes to their costumes.

District Seven leaves the Training Center in their usual tree costumes. The boy gives a winning smile that the girls of the Capitol swoon over. The girl goes for a fiercer angle, glaring at the audience. Surely being a tree doesn't do her any favors at making her look feisty, but somehow she pulls it off. The crowd cheers for District Seven as the next chariot exits the building.

The two from Eight are dressed beautifully. The girl wears a long white lace dress that flows behind her as the chariot moves down the street. The boy wears a white suit with a black shirt and white lace tie to complement the girl's dress. She smiles widely and blows kisses to the crowd as the boy does the same. Finally, a pair of tributes who seem to be similar. Compared to the others, they look classy and elegant, making many of the other costumes look tacky.

District Nine's tributes are covered with stalks of wheat. They're about the same height, but the girl is slightly older than the boy. They've got grain scattered through their hair, which blows behind them in the breeze. The girl smiles and waves proudly as the boy grins shyly.

The tributes from Ten are dressed in their usual cowboy costumes. The boy wears a red flannel shirt, overalls, boots, and a ten-gallon hat. The girl is dressed in a matching red flannel shirt that is tied at her midriff, along with a denim miniskirt, boots, and a ten-gallon hat as well. She smiles and swirls a lasso over her head as the boy waves at the audience.

District Eleven's outfits are spectacular. The girl is covered with vines, decorated with flowers here and there. Petals of all sorts are strewn throughout her thick blonde hair. The boy is dressed in nothing but vines. They cover his whole body, save his face. He waves excitedly at the crowd, giving a sweet, childish grin. The girl remains impassive, which makes her look quite beautiful. The teenage boys in the audience howl and scream her name.

Last, but maybe not least for once, is District Twelve. Their outfits this year are rather provocative since both tributes are rather old. The girl wears a short black leather strapless mini-dress and boots that stop mid-thigh. The boy wears nothing but a black leather vest, tight black leather pants, and black leather boots. The remainders of their bodies are caked in coal dust, with a little less on their faces to make them recognizable. The girl plays her part well, waving seductively and blowing kisses to the crowd. The boy smiles, exposing his white teeth that sparkle in contrast to his body.

As the final chariots come to a stop, President Snow rises from his chair on the balcony of his mansion. He gives his customary welcome speech, and as soon as he's done, the anthem plays. The twelve chariots parade around the circle one last time before disappearing back into the Training Center. The crowd begins to leave the streets and head back to their homes, their animated chatter filling the air.

"How did you like the tributes' costumes, Mrs. Pavo?" Io asks me as he opens the door to let me back inside.

"Splendid, Io. Some were better than others, of course," I tell him.

"Which costumes did you like best?" he asks.

"I don't have favorites. And if I did, I wouldn't tell you," I say.

"Of course, Mrs. Pavo," he nods.

I turn and look at him. "Did you have any costumes you liked best, Io?"

His eyes widen, unsure of what the correct answer may be. _Should I give an honest answer or keep my favorites to myself? _he thinks. I smile as I watch him squirm.

"I…I think District Four looked quite nice," he decides.

"I think so, too," I smirk.

I turn to walk down the hall to my office. He'll be gone as soon as this year's Games are done. I sit down in my chair and continue putting the finishing touches on my plans for this year's twist. I can guarantee you, it will certainly be memorable.

* * *

_**A/N:** __If you're looking for the link to the blog, go to the previous chapter. I'm too lazy to post it again._


	7. Training and Scores

_**A/N: **Hello again, everyone! This chapter consists of all three days of training, plus the tributes' scores. The alliances have been formed, and the blog is being updated with the allies and scores of each tribute. Not everyone got the ally they wanted, but I think everything will work out well._

_A huge thanks to Miss Mockingjay for helping me out this chapter! She'll be writing the interviews, which will be the next chapter. After that, the Games begin!_

_I've crammed 12 POVs in this chapter; one from each district. The other 12 will have their POVs next chapter. I hope you enjoy, and remember: review, review, review!_

* * *

**TRAINING: DAY ONE**

**Giselle Eve's POV (D1)**

I toss my blonde hair over my shoulder as I punch the button on the elevator. Today is the first day of training, and I want to get there a little early. Not only do I need to size up my opponents, but I need to meet my future allies.

"Giselle! Hold up!" Patrick calls, running towards the elevator.

I sigh, exasperated. It's bad enough this thief is my district partner. If he's going to follow me around like a lost puppy, he has another thing coming. Still, I need to be nice enough to him. Mom says that I shouldn't get on his bad side, because he's the kind of weasel who'd kill me in a sneak-attack. I hold the door open for him as he slides into the elevator.

"Thanks," he puffs, catching his breath. "I wanted to talk to you."

I throw my head back and groan. "What?"

"Well, I know you've trained for this and all, and I'm just some kid off the streets, but I was wondering… Do you think you can maybe get me into the Career alliance?" Patrick says calmly.

"Seriously? You know the Career alliance is exclusively for trained tributes," I scoff.

"I know, but I thought maybe I could do the dirty work for you guys. You know, hunt down tributes for you guys to kill," he shrugs.

I let out a short chuckle. "You really aren't a Career, are you? For us, the hunt adds to the satisfaction of a kill. There's no challenge in killing someone who's tied up at your feet," I tell him as if this is blatantly obvious, which it is.

"Oh. Well…then I'll keep watch all night and cook and stuff. You're gonna need someone to stay behind and guard the camp too," he says. I can see the little wheels in his head turning as he speaks. But he does have a point.

I consider this. Patrick's life of crime means that he has to stay vigilant, so he'd be a good look-out. I don't know about his cooking skills, but nobody is ever willing to do the menial tasks like this. There's something about him that raises red flags. He's…mysterious. Elusive. Unreadable. And that concerns me. I'll leave it to the District Two and Four tributes to decide.

"Well, Pat, if it was up to me, I'd say yes. But I think we need to discuss it with the other Careers. See what they think," I say sweetly with a fake smile.

"But you'll put in a good word for me?" he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"I'll see what I can do," I tell him, patting him on the shoulder.

The elevator door opens, revealing about a third of the other tributes already waiting in the gym. The District Eight tributes stand chatting with each other; the Fives stand off to the side uttering a few words here and there, and the Twos and the girl from Four seem to be getting along fairly well. Patrick and I walk over to the group and introduce ourselves.

"Giselle Eve, District One," I smile, offering my hand to the District Two boy.

"Lynx Swanson, District Two," he grins back as we shake hands. My oh my, is he yummy. But I'm not interested in finding romance in the Games. My mother taught me better. But there's no harm in just admiring such a fine specimen.

"Howl Draconix, District Two," the little girl on Lynx's left spits. She doesn't offer me her hand, but when she looks me in the eye, a chill runs down my spine. Something about her is deadly evil, but at the same time, I respect her.

"Evadne Caraway, District Four," says the girl who is about the same height as me. She doesn't offer her hand either, but the look in her eyes doesn't seem evil; just intimidating. She's got all types of jewelry in her face, and I've only seen that in the Capitol. Maybe it's the popular thing to do in District Four.

"Nice to meet all of you," I purr, keeping my smile plastered on. "Where's the boy from Four?"

Evadne shrugs. "Not sure. Probably still upstairs. We haven't spoken much since the reaping. I never met him before, since he worked at his parents' shop back in Four and he didn't train."

"So he's not even interested in being in the Career alliance?" I ask.

"Doesn't seem like it. I doubt he'd be of any use to us regardless," she says.

"Well, Patrick here never trained, but he wants to be in our alliance," I tell the group, not bothering to ask if I'm in; that's clearly a given.

"What can you do, Pat?" Lynx asks.

"I used to steal from all the victors back in One and sell their belongings to give the earnings to the poor," Patrick explains.

"Aww, charity, how sweet," Howl says quite sarcastically, but he ignores her.

"So, I'm agile and vigilant. I can climb a tree near camp at stay focused on lookout for hours. None of you have to stay behind to guard your stuff," he finishes.

"Sounds pretty good to me," Lynx shrugs.

"Wait!" Evadne shouts. "I don't know, Patrick. I don't trust you. How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"I didn't expect you to accept me right away. Give it time. I think by the end of training, you'll want me in your alliance," Patrick says.

**Bryn Curry's POV (D9)**

Clarence and I have stuck together like glue since getting reaped. Being friends prior to the reaping, it only makes sense that we'd be allies. I stand next to him as a muscular man named Apollo calls us to a circle. He explains to us the rules and regulations of training, and finally lets us go to the several stations scattered throughout the gym. The tributes disperse around the gym as Clarence and I look around.

"Where do you want to go first?" I ask him.

We look around at the weaponry stations and watch the girl from District Four shoot an arrow into the bull's-eye of a target.

"Let's try tying knots," he decides, trying not to show how intimidated she is as the girl hits the bull's-eye again.

We walk over to the knot tying station and watch the instructor show us some basic knots. Clarence and I try again and again to replicate it to no avail. The instructor begins to get frustrated with us for not understanding what he's doing, when suddenly another pair of hands appears on the rope I've been using.

"You've got to be more patient," the boy from District Three says as he successfully ties the knot I've been failing at for the past ten minutes. "Watch your fingers, not the rope. Try it again."

I follow his advice, watching the way the way my fingers fumble their way around the rope when he so deftly pulled the rope in all directions. I take my time, being as careful as possible. I gently tug the end of the rope through one last loop, and I've got it.

"Thanks," I say to the boy from Three. "I'm Bryn."

"Baron," he nods.

"Would you like to be part of our alliance?" I ask him.

"Really?" Baron smiles, looking surprised and happy at how quickly he's gone from a total stranger to potential ally in a matter of minutes. I nod. "Sure."

Clarence frowns at me as we get up and move on to another station.

"You could have asked me what I thought of him first. I'm your ally too," he whispers sulkily.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you think there's any reason why he shouldn't be with us?" I whisper back a little indignantly. He thinks hard about this for a second.

"Well…no."

"Then he can be our ally."

**Karlsson vom Dach's POV (D10)**

I place my lunch tray down at an empty table. As I bite into my sandwich, I look around at the tributes taking their seats. This year seems to be the year of district partner alliances. Of course, there are the Careers, all five of them sitting at a table. Then there's the bubbly pair from Eight, laughing away with each other. Let's not forget the friends from Nine who were keeping to themselves, but seem to have teamed up with the boy from Three. Everyone else is scattered throughout the cafeteria, eyeing each other up to see how worthy they are of being potential allies.

"Mind if I sit here?"

I look up to see Elsa Rose standing in front of me, tray in hand. Perhaps we'll be another pair of district partner allies.

"Go ahead," I nod to her.

She places her tray down and takes a seat across from me. We begin eating in silence. We haven't spoken much to each other since being reaped. I prefer to keep to myself, and it's evident that she does, too. There's something about her that's so familiar. I feel like I should know her from back home, but I'm not sure why. I'd ask her, but I'm far too shy.

"So… You're cousins with Harvey, aren't you?" Elsa asks me.

That's how I know her. Of course, now I remember, I saw her at Harvey's house the last time my family visited him.

"Yeah, he's your friend, isn't he?" I return, trying to keep up the small talk.

"I suppose so," she mumbles, stirring her soup with her spoon. She's incredibly mysterious, but she doesn't seem cruel.

"Well, any friend of Harvey's is a friend of mine," I decide to tell her with somewhat of a smile. I don't think she'd be rude enough to laugh at me or get up and leave. Besides, Elsa's almost as shy as me. I don't think she'd pass up an opportunity to make friends.

"Thank you," she smiles, holding out her hand. "Allies?" she surprises me by asking. I look deep into her eyes, expecting to see a hint of amusement in them, but they're completely sincere.

I take her hand in mine. "Allies."

**TRAINING: DAY TWO**

**Blythe Cronin's POV (D7)**

The boy from Four has been trying to teach me the proper footwork for climbing up a tree. He's been scurrying up trees in his backyard since he was little, which is odd. I didn't know there were many trees in Four.

"There aren't," he tells me. "It's mostly palm trees. But we've got an orange tree in our backyard and I need to climb up there and pick them for my family to sell in our shop. Shouldn't you know how to climb trees, being from District Seven?"

"I didn't climb the trees; I just cut them down," I shrug. "I'm Blythe, by the way."

"Proudlock," he smiles, offering his hand to me. I look at him tentatively before shaking it. I hope this doesn't mean we're allies. He seems nice and all, but I'm just not sure if I want to ally just yet.

At first I was wary of him because he was from a Career District. I want absolutely no business with the Careers. But they've been ignoring him and he doesn't have the same vicious look or air of superiority that they have, so I doubt he's one of them. Remembering the fear he was trying to hide when no one volunteered at the reaping backs this up. So I trust him enough to help me.

"Now, how do I start off?" I ask him.

"I don't think it really matters how you start. Just do whatever comes naturally, and I'll guide you from there," he explains.

I grab the lowest branch of the tree, which happens to be a few inches above my head. I pull myself up using nothing but upper body strength. As soon as I'm perched on the branch, I look down at Proudlock.

"Don't look down!" he calls up to me. "That's how you fall! You gotta wait till you're settled in the tree!"

"Sorry!" I yell down to him. "What do I do now?"

"Grab the branch above you and pull yourself up like you did before," he commands.

I obey, and pull myself up onto the next branch. I hear the rustling of the fake leaves, and before I know it, Proudlock is perched on the branch next to me.

"Wow, you're lucky you're strong. All you need is upper body strength to pull yourself up. I, however, have no muscles, so I need to use my feet as much as my arms," he says before scurrying up higher in the tree, as sure-footed as a cat.

I pull myself up the branches, trying to catch him, though I'm not sure why. Finally, I see him sitting in the crook of a branch near the ceiling. I haul myself up onto the branch next to him.

"Blythe, you made it all the way up!" Proudlock exclaims, almost surprised. "I'm impressed."

"What, you didn't think I could do it?" I scoff.

"No, I knew you could. I just didn't think you actually would," he laughs.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I hiss at him.

"Nothing!" Proudlock exclaims, holding his hands up defensively. "So now that you know how to climb, can you teach me the basics of an ax?"

"I guess so. But only if you teach me how to get down from here," I tell him with a nervous laugh.

"Sure thing," he smiles. "Are we allies?"

I rub my chin with my hand to make it look like I'm deeply thinking about his question. "I believe so."

**Howl Draconix's POV (D2)**

_I cannot wait to get my hands on a real human_, I think to myself as I flick a knife at a training dummy. It'll just be that much sooner that I can prove myself. My know-it-all brother told me to hide my strengths from the others and just show the Gamemakers, but I've decided against that. My whole thing is proving myself. What good would it be if I hid my talents? I'm already a Career. Who am I trying to deceive?

I see the girl from Five staring at me. I glare at her and give her an evil grin before throwing another into the heart of a dummy standing next to her. She jumps and lets out a little shriek.

"Nice shot," Evadne says from behind me. "I hear your brother won last year's Games."

"Yep," I nod, looking at my reflection in the knife in my hand.

"I guess that gives you a leg up, doesn't it?" she continues, grabbing a knife from the rack.

"Maybe," I sigh. "But I'm only a little twelve-year-old. What can I kill? A bunny rabbit?"

Evadne looks down at me. "I'm not sure if you're trying to fool me, or anyone, for that matter. You're an interesting little girl. I respect you," she tells me before letting her knife fly and sink itself into a dummy's neck. "But I don't trust you."

"I don't expect trust. There's no place for that in the Games," I shrug, wiping the blade of the knife on my shirt to make it shine. "I appreciate the respect, though."

Lynx walks over to Evadne and me. "You ladies ready for lunch?" he asks. We follow him into the cafeteria, where we pick out our food from the buffet set up. We join Giselle and Patrick at our usual table and take our seats. Patrick has been accepted into the Careers after he smuggled out two knifes from the gym and let us in on some of the other tributes' skills. Turns out the boy from Four is a climber, the girl from Eleven is quick on her feet, and the girl from Five is afraid of fire.

"Afraid of fire?" Giselle scoffs.

"Yep, I heard her tell her district partner and the boy from Eleven that she got burned in a bad explosion back in Five, and she's been terrified of fire ever since," Patrick explains.

"Interesting," I smile. I might have some fun more with her if I get a spare moment. I look up and see Lynx across from me, looking towards the pair from District Eight. He hasn't been tuning in on our conversation at all. "What do you think, Lynx?"

He jumps slightly, but recovers. "I agree completely," he smiles.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he looks at the District Eight table again. Whatever's up with him is a mystery. But I swear I will find out.

**Airley Brackenfall's POV (D8)**

I yawn and stretch as I roll over in my bed. It's got to be at least three in the morning. I haven't had morphling since the day of the reaping, and I'm really starting to suffer. I'd give anything to feel its warm, carefree embrace again. I can't sleep too well, even though this bed is a million times more comfortable than my bed back home.

Suddenly, I hear voices from Thread's room across the hall. I sit up and push myself to the edge of the bed, where I step into my slippers. Who else is up at this hour? I creep over to the door and open it slowly.

The door to Thread's room creaks open as I watch Lynx Swanson from District Two step out of the room butt-naked. He slowly looks up and we make eye contact. We both gasp as he covers himself with a handful of clothes.

"It's not what it looks like!" he splutters.

My mouth is wide open. Sure, I knew Thread was gay. He told me when we became friends on the train to the Capitol. He told me how he professed his love to his best friend, and after he turned Thread down, he's going to try to make him jealous. But with Lynx Swanson, the strong, handsome Career? I never saw that one coming. Nobody would have.

"Are you sure about that?" I manage to ask.

Lynx whips his head from side to side, before stepping closer to me. "If you tell anyone, I swear I will kill you so painfully that you'll wish you never saw the light of day," he growls.

My eyes widen. Lynx always seemed so nice for a Career. But now that I know this little secret of his, things are deadly serious.

I return my face to its usual cheerful expression and look him straight in the eyes. "Don't worry, Lynx. Your secret's safe with me."

His shoulders relax and his expression softens. He trusts me. "Thank you," he whispers.

"It's safe with me…as long as you make sure to protect me from your allies. Because I swear, Lynx Swanson, I will reveal your secret with my dying breath," I smirk. We both know the Capitol would eat up this little scandal; it'd eclipse anything he does, even if he wins. I feel a pang of guilt at threatening him like this, but quickly bury it. People have done much worse things to ensure their survival in the arena.

This time it's his eyes that widen. "I… I'll do my best," he sighs.

"Thank you," I smile, turning back to my room and shutting the door behind me. Finally, I get a good night's sleep.

**TRAINING: DAY THREE**

**Evadne Caraway's POV**

It's almost sad how most of these tributes are truly no competition for me. I can already tell who's going to be a bloodbath casualty. But I won't name names.

It's also interesting to see the alliances forming these past few days. Of course, there's the Career alliance. There's the alliance between the pair from Nine and the boy from Three. I've also seen Proudlock partnering up with the girl from Seven. The tributes from Five allied with the chubby boy from Eleven. The two from Six are sticking together, as are the pairs from Eight and Ten. It's interesting to see the district partner alliances. It's also interesting to watch the stragglers; the ones who haven't found allies yet. Perhaps some of them wish to be lone wolves. But I can tell some of them are unsatisfied with being alone. Like the girl from Twelve, for example. I've been watching her these past few days. She's pretty good with hand-to-hand combat. She's quick and agile, but sometimes stumbles here and there. I think she's decent enough to bring into our alliance. We could use a little helper like her.

"Hey, Twelve," I call as she brushes herself off from sparring with a trainer.

"Me?" she asks, head tilted slightly.

"Yeah. You're pretty good with close combat," I tell her.

"Thanks," she says hesitantly, not sure if she should trust me.

"I'm Evadne, by the way," I introduce myself.

"I'm Tymia," she nods.

"Well, Tymia, I was wondering if you'd like to be in the Career alliance," I smile.

"For real?" Tymia gasps.

"For real. We're short one, since my district partner doesn't want to be in the alliance. You're more useful than him, anyway. Much more skilled," I tell her.

"Well… Yeah. That will be fine. I'll ally with you," she smiles.

"Great! Come with me; I'll introduce you to the others," I say, putting my hand on her back.

Killing this girl will be easy. Too easy. Like taking candy from a baby. As they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

**Ian Redstone's POV (D12)**

I watch as Evadne Caraway takes Tymia over to the Careers. Did she really just ally with the lapdogs? If Tymia makes it back to District Twelve, they won't be happy with this. The Careers are deeply hated back home. No one from District Twelve, especially no one from the Seam, would even think about allying with those brutes. But what do I care? I'm just going to have to kill her eventually if someone else doesn't.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" the girl from Eleven says to me. "I can't believe she'd fall for that."

"Fall for what?" I ask her.

"They obviously see her as a threat. They're just luring her into a trap. It's sad, but it's a strategy," she sighs, shaking her head. "My name's Alanna. District Eleven."

"Ian, District Twelve," I nod.

"Oh, I already know who you are. That's why I came over here. Want to be allies?" Alanna asks. She's straight to the point, not wanting to waste time with getting to know each other, which I guess is for the best in the long run.

"Sure," I say cautiously. "Why me?"

She shrugs. "You seem nice enough. You're not a wimp, and you look like you have some common sense. That proved to be true when you chose me as an ally," she laughs.

I smile slightly. "So what can you do?"

"I can run, climb, and identify plants. You?"

"I'm not too sure yet. I'm pretty decent with a sword," I shrug.

"Well that's a good start," Alanna nods. "You want to try out more weapons?"

"Sure."

We head over to the ax station and watch the girl from Seven lodge an ax in the middle of a dummy's head. The boy from Four stands watching with a shocked look on his face. The girl walks over to him, giggling at his expression as they head off to the camouflage station.

"You try first, Ian," Alanna says.

I walk over to the rack and pick up an ax. It's heavy, but I manage to pull it back and swing it into a dummy's stomach.

"That was a solid hit, but your technique is totally wrong," says a voice from behind me. I turn around to find its owner, the boy from Seven. He walks over to me and says, "You gotta keep your feet planted when you swing. Otherwise the ax will take you with it."

"Thanks," I tell him. "My name's Ian. District Twelve."

"Quin, District Seven," he introduces, shaking my hand.

"This is my ally, Alanna. She's from District Eleven," I nod to the approaching Alanna.

"I'm Quin. Nice to meet you," he says, shaking her hand.

"You too," she smiles. "Want to join our alliance?"

Quin looks slightly taken aback, his eyes darting back and forth at us. "Yeah, I'll ally with you two."

"Great," Alanna smiles. "Where to next, boys?"

Quin shrugs as I look around at the stations. "Let's see how good you are at the edible plants test, Alanna," I smirk.

She smiles. "I bet you my dessert that I score better than either of you."

"You're on," I laugh as we make our way over to the plants station.

**Fidget Northwich's POV (D6)**

As Freja, Selena, and I fill our lunch trays, I look around at the other tributes. It seems that everyone is in an alliance, and no one is going into the Games alone. I follow the little girls to our usual table and sit down.

"So, Fidget, what do you plan on showing the Gamemakers?" Selena asks me.

"Oh, I…uh… I haven't really given it much thought," I admit.

"But the Gamemaker sessions are right after lunch. You can't go in there without a plan!" she gasps.

"I know, but I'm not good enough at anything to show them," I sigh. "What do you plan on doing, Selena?"

"I'll probably set up some snares, maybe climb the tree," she says thoughtfully, clearly still a little hazy about the details of her own plan.

"What about you, Freja?" I ask her gently.

"Well, I'm thinking about camouflage, maybe building a fire," she explains in her timid little voice.

"You should show them your archery," Selena says. "You're pretty decent with a bow and arrow."

"Maybe…" she sighs, biting into her sandwich.

"Patrick MacDougal, District One," a robotic voice announces. I look over to the Careers' table and watch Patrick stand up and make his way to the gym. I turn back to the little girls sitting across from me. Both of their faces are pale.

"Good luck," I say to the two of them, giving my best attempt at a smile.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," Freja replies, finishing the infamous Capitol catchphrase.

**TRAINING SCORES**

**Baron Chrome's POV (D3)**

"So, how do you think you did, Baron?" my mentor, Beetee asks me as we all sit down to watch the training scores.

I sigh. "I probably won't receive a very high score. I didn't use any weapons."

"That's alright. Staying under the radar is often very useful," he assures me, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Just then, Caesar Flickerman appears on the screen. He introduces himself, flashing his glowing white teeth in a wide smile, and begins reading the scores as the tribute's picture and name pop up next to him on the screen.

"Let's begin with District One. Patrick MacDougal: 7. Giselle Eve: 10," Caesar announces. "District Two. Lynx Swanson: 10. Helena Draconix: 9. Now, District Three. Baron Chrome: 3. Selena Haven: 4."

My spirits sink. I'm an easy target for those Careers with their nines and tens. I look over at Selena, whose expression mirrors mine: despair.

"Next, District Four. Proudlock Kasabian: 6. Evadne Caraway: 9."

"Great," Selena sobs. "We'll be dead at the bloodbath."

I want to tell her we won't, that we'll be fine. But I can't even begin to kid myself, let alone her. So I just put a reassuring arm around her and let her cry into my shoulder. I say nothing, wishing I was strong enough to admit our fate as she was.

**Amaris Stevens' POV (D5)**

All the Careers so far have gotten great scores. The two little kids from Three got low scores, and I do feel bad for them. But this is the Hunger Games, and I can't think those things. I look over at Mercury, whose eyes are glued to the screen. His score is up next.

"District Five," Caesar Flickerman announces. "Mercury Gratian: 6. Amaris Stevens: 7."

Mercury and I congratulate each other on our scores. They're not too good, but they're not bad, either. I can only hope the remaining tributes did worse.

"On to District Six. Fidget Northwich: 4. Freja Porger: 5. Next, District Seven. Quin Emery: 8. Blythe Cronin: 7. Now, District Eight. Thread West: 5. Airley Brackenfall: 6."

"Wow," Mercury breathes. "Looks like we got some tough competition."

I nod. The competition is pretty even this year. "I wonder if these other tributes are as good as their scores say they are. Maybe the Gamemakers are becoming more generous with their scoring," I say.

"I just hope I make it far enough to find out," Mercury sighs.

**Alanna Lockheart's POV (D11)**

My nerves are beginning to get to me as I await my training score. So far, the lowest score was a 3 and the highest was a 10. I keep my eyes glued to the screen as Caesar announces the remaining scores.

"District Nine. Clarence Klaxon: 4. Bryn Curry: 6. Now for District Ten. Karlsson vom Dach: 5. Elsa Rose: 6. Next, District Eleven. Reed Wallace: 5. Alanna Lockheart: 7."

I breathe a sigh of relief. Seven is certainly a score to be proud of.

"And last, but not least, is District Twelve. Ian Redstone: 7. Tymia Lixe: 8," Caesar reads. "Now, I'd like to introduce our Head Gamemaker, Luna Pavo."

The camera pans over to a middle-aged woman with long lavender hair and small piecing dark grey, almost black, eyes. "Thank you, Caesar," she says with a soft voice, but one that oozes intelligence and control. She turns her gaze directly to the camera. "People of Panem, you all know that I like to make each year's Games memorable in their own special way. This year, the tributes need to be very careful, because they will share a very special connection with each other. The female tribute of each district will be paired at random with a male tribute from another district. These pairs will be fitted with a chip that makes them suffer feel each other's pain. The pairings will be unknown to the tributes, to make things even more interesting."

"Brilliant!" Caesar exclaims. "But if a tribute dies, will their—shall I say?—'pain partner' die as well?"

"No, but their partner will feel the pain. For example, if someone dies by getting a knife to the throat, their partner will feel the pain with them," Luna explains.

"Do the pain partners need to stick together throughout the Games?" Caesar asks.

"No, not at all. But the tributes will just need to be careful who they kill," the Head Gamemaker smiles sadistically and lets out a little, twisted laugh.

Suddenly, I feel lightheaded. There's no way anyone will win the Games without feeling the pain of death.

* * *

**_A/N:_ **_Here is the link for the blog:_

_deception-44th. blogspot. c_o_m_

_[remove the spaces and underscores, since FF doesn't like links]_


	8. Interviews: Part I

_Hi, everyone, Miss Mockingjay here! For those of you who don't know, I'm Krigoo's little helper who adds a few things to her writing. I'm also the one who came up with the twist._

_But I'll be writing these interviews on my own, owww scary :S. I'm not as good as her, but I've done the very best I can and I hope I do your wonderful tributes justice. I'm going on vacation in a couple of days and with all the packing to do tomorrow I wasn't able to get them all done by the time I went and I'm sorry you have to wait for more than a week for the next chapter._

_I've developed on previous sub-plots I think I've seen, but all plot developments in this chapter and the next are my own._

_Anyways, that's enough babbling. Here is part 1 of the interviews, enjoy :D!_

* * *

**Patrick MacDougal's POV (D1)**

The cheers and applause echo across the square as Caesar Flickerman bounces onto the stage, dressed in a lime green suit with matching lips and eyes. It's been ten years since he took over from Angelica Sliverim, who (I've heard Sevelina say) was fired for having a massive morphling addiction. The Capitol loved Caesar instantly and right now he has the crowd eating out of his hand, cupping a hand over his ear, shouting that he can't hear them. They blast him with an uproar of cheers and he stumbles back as if he's being buffeted by its sheer power.

"Whoa! Calm down, everyone! Our first tribute hasn't even come out yet! Let's meet her now, shall we? Representing District One, here's Giselle Eve!" Caesar introduces. Giselle struts out wearing a tight, golden gown with an open back, and a neckline so low you can see her belly button! There are several wolf whistles as she takes her seat.

She's flirty and makes a few funny comments about the other tributes, but she mostly boasts about being the daughter of a victor and her high score.

"And tell me, how did you get that score?" Caesar asks.

"Well, Caesar, being the daughter of a victor sure has its perks," Giselle purrs.

"How so?" he asks.

"Oh, you'll all have to wait and see," she giggles, flipping her long blonde hair back and winking at the audience as the buzzer goes off. They go crazy for her as she leaves the stage.

"And now it's time to meet her district partner! Please welcome, Patrick MacDougal!" The applause hits me like a brick wall as I walk onto the stage.

"Hello, Patrick! How prepared are you for the Games?"

"I'm very prepared! I'm gonna go out there and destroy the competition!" I yell arrogantly, just as I practiced in the mirror in this morning. It feels like someone else said that because it's a complete lie, but my mentor told me that the sponsors want an egotistic, ruthless District One Career and I have to fit into this role to win them over. Plus the other tributes will think I'm all brawn and no brains, which might come in handy in the arena.

"Wow! That's what I love to hear, a tribute brimming with confidence. What do your parents make of you volunteering?"

My Career mask instantly falls away. My parents? The memories I have of them are very few. I haven't even thought about them for years, mostly because I deeply resent them for abandoning me, leaving me in a life of poor orphanages and uncaring foster homes.

"Umm…" I swallow. "I…I have no parents. They abandoned me when I was very small." There's a gasp from the crowd. I quickly pull my mask back on. "But after I win, they'll be sorry they ever left me!" I shout, and there's an eruption of applause that follows.

"Ooh, so life hasn't been easy, has it? There are rumors going around that you resorted to crime to get by." There's shocked murmuring in the stands. I was warned this would come up and I've rehearsed an answer.

"I did what I had to do to survive. Whatever it takes to stay alive, I'll do it." I say, trying to sound mysterious. According to my mentor, an intriguing past gets you lots of coverage.

"And what did you do?" Caesar prompts.

"That's for me to know and all of you to find out," I answer as the buzzer sounds. The cheers vibrate in my ears. I have a huge grin on my face, but deep inside I know they're not cheering for me. They're cheering for the mask I've had on this entire time.

**Lynx Swanson's POV (D2)**

We watch as Patrick walks backstage, a relieved smile on his face.

"Well done, Pat," I congratulate him, slapping him on the back.

"Thanks," he laughs.

"Yeah, that's some of the best acting I've ever seen. They really believe you're a proper Career!" Giselle sneers.

"Nah, those morons would believe anything. If I went out there acting all cute, they'd be awing the whole way through my interview. Not that there's a chance in hell of me doing that!" Howl chuckles darkly as her name is called.

Her pale green gown with emeralds and diamonds cascading down the side of glimmers under the lights. She's the same as she always is: vicious and cunning. She makes nasty jokes about almost all the tributes, cackling as does.

"So, what do you make of the twist this year, Helena?" Caesar asks. She looks like she's about to bite his head off.

"It's Howl," she snarls. "Don't you dare call me Helena."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He quickly apologizes, looking slightly scared. "So…what do you make of the twist this year?" he asks, sounding a bit uncomfortable .

"I love it! It'll be like killing two people at the same time," she bares her teeth in a wolfish smile.

Despite their host acting a bit freaked out for the rest of the interview, the crowd seems to love her and gives her a big round of applause as her interviews ends. As Caesar waves her off, I look at all the other tributes milling about backstage, everyone looks nervous. I stop as I spot Thread talking to Airley in the corner. I cannot help but feel the pang of jealousy as they laugh together. Thread looks so handsome in his navy blue suit with his dark brown hair slightly ruffled. His lips are curled into a smile; I remember the way I kissed them not so long ago…

"What are you looking at?" Howl snaps beside be, nearly making me jump.

"Nothing," I lie. She glances at Thread.

"Huh, I might have guessed. What is it with you and him? You're always staring at him like some awe-struck moron." She frowns at me.

"I don't!" I gaze down at the floor, averting my eyes from her searing stare.

"You do! What is it with you and him?" she repeats the question slowly, a razor sharp edge to her voice, demanding an answer.

"Hey, Lynx. You're on," Evadne taps me on the back and points to the big screen backstage, which shows Caesar waiting for me to come out. I nearly run to the stage, grateful to escape Howl's interrogation.

My interview is nearly done. I've poured on the charm, finding this a lot easier than the usual ruthless Career angle because that's not who I am at all. Occasionally I glance at the crowd and see some of the girls squeal as they realize I'm looking their way. Good, their screaming would be a nice cover up for any gay rumors that might escape in the next few weeks.

"Now, there's one question I'm sure many ladies out there are dying to know: is there a special girl back home?" It's the question I've been dreading all day. I've never told anyone I'm gay; my father would disown me and the other boys at the Academy wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole in hand to hand combat, and I'm most certainly not going to tell the entire nation now. But I hate lying, which I guess is why I'm so bad at it. I tug at my gold bow tie nervously before answering.

"Well you can tell them all that I'm totally free. In fact, I can see a few very pretty girls in the audience tonight. Who knows, if I win, one them could become my special someone." The thrilled shrieks nearly burst my eardrums. It takes Caesar a couple of minutes to calm them down. As he does, the buzzer rings. Walking off the stage, I hear cries of "I love you!" But I could never love any of them, no matter how hard I tried. As I think this I release something: if I win, I'll have to pretend to be a womanizing charmer for the rest of my life.

**Selena Haven's POV (D3)**

I've been trying all day to act like I have a fighting chance, but no one can fool me, not even myself. All I can think about is who's going to kill me. Right now, my money's on Howl; she's by far the most blood-thirsty person here despite being the youngest. I just hope it's over quickly so my poor family doesn't have to watch the life drain out of me and my "pain partner" doesn't have to go through too much agony, whoever they may be.

As I'm about to walk out my stylist quickly wipes away a smudge of grey eye shadow.

"Smile!" she practically orders me as she lets me go.

I manage to look vaguely happy as I sit in the chair next to Caesar.

"Hello, Selena! I must say I love your dress!" The audience claps in agreement. It's a little pale pink dress with a tutu skirt.

"Thank you. I like it, too; it's not very often I get to wear such nice things." I give a fake giggle. I let the conversation revolve around clothes for a couple of minutes before he changes the subject.

"So, how do you like the Capitol?"

"Well it's very different from home. There's so much wonderful food I just want to eat all day," I answer truthfully with the first thing that comes into my head. I'm surprised when the audience laughs.

"Do you think your family would like it here?"

"Yes, definitely. My twin sister, Tamara, loves fashion so she'd fit right in." I say, the laughter of the crowd beginning to thaw the numbness I've felt since the training scores were announced.

"Your twin? Isn't that the girl who fainted when you got reaped?" Caesar asks, as mutters travel around the audience.

"Yeah, that's her. I was more concerned about her than me when she collapsed." I answer sadly, reliving the horrible moment she hit the ground.

"Aww. Have you got any other siblings?"

"There are five us including Tamara and me. But the two of us are the only ones who are old enough for Games. The others are so small they have no idea why I've gone." A spark of anger flares within me, anger as I fully realize that the Capitol will never let me see any of them ever again.

"Then this is what you have to do: you have to go out there and win, come back and tell them all about it when they're older!"

"I will!" The spark has turned into fiery determination to beat the Capitol, to go against the odds that have made me believe I won't win. A determination I thought had died yesterday. "I'll win for every last one of them, whether the odds are in my favor or not."

**Proudlock Kasabian's POV (D4)**

Evadne is chatting away in her lacey royal blue dress about her tattoos on the big screen. I'm learning more about her in this interview than in the last few days I've shared the District 4 apartment with her. We've barely spoken, only acknowledging each other's existence when we sit down to dinner. She didn't even try to get me into the Career pack, not that I would have ever said yes, anyway. They're just a bunch of show-offs. Evadne proves this by talking about her high score for a good minute.

"What's your family like?" Caesar asks.

"My Dad is great. He's always supported me and he's so proud that I'm here," she smiles.

"And what about your mother?"

Her face darkens at this question. "To be honest I never really got along with her. She's always telling me what to do. Maybe if I win she'll stop criticizing me and actually be proud of me. "

"I'm sure she will!" Caesar says as the interview draws to a close.

I gulp as I realize that it's my turn. Blythe smiles at me reassuringly. "Don't worry, you're gonna be great," she says enthusiastically. "Break a leg!" she calls after me as I step onto the stage. It's easy for her say, she's funny and outspoken while I'm shy and awkward around people I don't know (except cute girls). In fact, Caesar has to tell me to speak up when I just mumble the answer to my first question.

But as the interview goes on, I get more and more confident and I'm soon working the charming angle my mentor assigned to me.

"Rumor has it that you're not a part of the usual One, Two, and Four alliance. Is that true?" Caesar probes about three minutes in. Who starts these rumors?

"Umm, yeah that's right, I was left out of that one. Not that I care; I've got my own ally."

"Oh really? Who's that then?" he raises an eyebrow.

"You'll find out soon enough," I answer smoothly.

"Ah, very well." He looks like he wants to push me further for an answer, but he knows we're running out of time. "So, what's life like back home? Got anyone special waiting for you?"

"Yes. Cady, my girlfriend. Or at least she was. I broke up with her after the reaping," I admit miserably. There are a few gasps from the audience.

"Why would you do that?" he asks, looking a bit surprised too.

"Because…if I don't come back, I don't want my death to stop her from finding happiness with some other guy, someone she deserves. She's so beautiful, strong-minded, smart, and funny. She was too good for me anyway." I give a sad little smile as I think about her. The crowd goes "aww."

"Oh, don't say that! You'll be the best catch in the country after you win!" Caesar assures me, acting (as he does with everyone) that my victory is inevitable.

"Yeah. I guess I will be," I smile.

As I jump off the stage to the good level of applause, Blythe hugs me.

"See? I told you you'd be good." She's the exact same height as Cady, and if I close my eyes, I can imagine it's her. I find it hard to forget that Blythe has to die before I can ever see the girl I love again.

**Mercury Gratian's POV (D5)**

"What's your strategy, Mercury?" Caesar asks**. **I glance at the clock, two more minutes to go. The last three have gone by in a nervous blur. The crowd looks bored. I have to do at least one thing to make me memorable, but so far I've failed miserably, missing almost every opportunity Caesar throws at me to make a joke.

"Every time I'm not sure what to do I'll ask myself: What would my sister, Katrina do? She's so smart and brave, she'd win this easy. I've just got to adopt her mind-set," I say, sounding sure of myself for the first time.

"Hmm, very interesting. What about the pain partner twist? How's that going to affect any alliances you make?"

This is by far the hardest question. How can I answer that when the three of us haven't had time to discuss it?

"Well…I'll try to find out who mine is somehow. But I won't leave the alliance I've formed in training," I tell him, coming up with my answer right on the spot. The buzzer cuts off whatever Caesar is going say.

I get an average amount of cheers as I leave the stage and go looking for Reed and Amaris.

I find them at the buffet. Reed is stuffing his face and Amaris is pouring herself a glass of water.

"Oh hi, Mercury. Great interview," Amaris smiles. Reed nods as he devours a cupcake.

"Reed! Leave some for the rest of us!" I laugh.

"Hey, this could be one of the last times I get to eat good food! Besides I'm hungry," he protests between mouthfuls.

"Come on, let's head back to the screening room." Amaris rolls her eyes, looking over her shoulder at us as she walks out.

What happens next seems to happen in slow motion. As she opens the door, still looking at us, Howl steps into the room. Amaris bumps right into her, soaking Howl's dress with her drink!

We all gasp as Howl lives up to her name and shrieks angrily. Amaris struggles to hold back a smirk.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you Five?" Howl yells, looking furious.

"No, no, not at all! I'm sorry Howl I…" Amaris begins to apologize before she cuts her off.

"Liar. You were smiling. You know, I could kill you tomorrow if I wanted to," she growls, her voice low and full of venom. Amaris backs into the wall as she gets closer. She might be younger and smaller than her, but right now Howl's as terrifying as a muscled Career boy running at you with a sword.

Although she looks scared, Amaris frowns back at her and says, "I'd like to see you try, little girl." At this, Howl's eyes glaze over as she grabs Amaris' shoulder and slams her head into the wall!

"Don't you…" she begins before she's silenced by a kick to her shin by Amaris. She's seeing red now too as Howl screams and tackles her to floor. Now they're full-on fighting, rolling around punching and wrestling each other.

"Stop it!" I yell running up to them and pulling Howl off her. Reed pulls Amaris to her feet as Howl struggles in my arms.

"Let me go, weakling!" she yells.

"No way!" I shout. I yelp in pain as she sinks her teeth into my hand, drawing blood. She only lets go when Peacekeepers swam the room, everyone else filling the corridor behind them, curious to see what all the fuss is about.

"What the hell is going on here?" The girl from One demands to know as I let Howl go.

"She attacked to me!" Amaris points at her.

"No I didn't, she attacked me!" Howl lies.

"Actually Howl attacked Amaris and…" Reed injects.

"Has anyone got any serious injuries?" one of the Peacekeepers asks. The girls and Reed shake their heads.

"My hand's bleeding." I say, holding it up.

"Get him to a doctor; he can't go into the Games like that," he orders two of his colleagues before turning to the girls. "You stay out of each other's way."

As I go I can hear Howl say to Amaris very viciously, "You're so going to pay of this, you bitch! I know you're afraid of fire and I'm going to burn you to ashes! You and your little friends."

I shudder. I've just become the enemy of the most evil tribute in the Games.

**Freja Porger's POV (D6)**

As Mercury is led away and the crowd disperses, my mentor grabs me by the hand and nearly pulls me along behind her.

"Come on Freja , you're three minutes late! If Caesar asks why, don't mention the fight," she quickly tells me as we reach the stage.

"Ah, there she is! You've left us all hanging, Freja!" Caesar laughs as I join him on stage.

"Sorry everyone. I…I just got really nervous." I say sweetly.

"Aww, you don't need to be nervous, I don't bite. Well, I don't bite sweet little girls like you." The crowd laughs at Caesar's joke, but I remain silent. "So tell me, how does life here compare to life back home?"

"Well, everyone is really nice here, and everything is so...colorful," I say thoughtfully.

"Well that's certainly one way of putting it. What is your family like?" he smiles at me with his shiny, sharp white teeth.

Thousands of images of my parents flash before my eyes. My father swinging a furious punch towards me; my mother in bed, her eyes glassy, stinking of whiskey; and the both of them hugging me before they became the evil shadows of themselves. I can't speak of any of them, it's too painful. So I settle for a beautiful lie.

"I live with my parents who are the most wonderful parents you could ever ask for. They make me laugh when I'm sad, give me beautiful presents on my birthdays, and takes me everywhere in the District. They wouldn't ever want to see me cry, not ever." My voice becomes sadder and sadder as I talk about the parents I've wished every single day I have; the parents I had all those years ago.

I look down at arms. Through the sheer emerald green sleeves, it's almost impossible to see my bruises. My prep team has spent hours covering my yellow-tinged skin with foundation. There are no signs on my body that it's not true; the audience has no reason not to believe me.

"How did they react to you getting reaped?" he asks, looking touched.

"They cried. But I told them I'd try my very best to win." I can hear sympathetic noises coming from the front rows.

"And how do you plan to win?"

I'm relieved the subject has changed so I no longer have to lie.

"My plan is to stay alive," I answer, quoting the joke my mentor told me to say.

I continue the interview, working my sweet and innocent angle as best as I can. At the end of the interview the crowd surprises me by giving me a standing ovation. Some of them have tears in their eyes.

"Wow! You're gonna be a hard act to follow," Fidget chuckles nervously as I pass him backstage. "I think you've just become Panem's new sweetheart!"

* * *

**_A/N (from krigoo): _**_A humongous thanks to Miss Mockingjay for writing this chapter! I personally think it was very well-done. She'll be continuing the interviews when she gets back from her vacation, but I'll be here in the meantime writing Day One of the Games. :)_

_As she said in her author's note, it was her idea to have the "pain partner" twist, and I'd like to thank her tremendously. I think it's a great twist that will keep you all on the edge of your seats._

_I'm posting a poll on my profile for you all to vote in to see what the readers' favorite alliance is so far. It won't affect who dies in the bloodbath; I'm just curious._

_Remember to review and vote!_


	9. Interviews: Part II

_Hi everyone, I'm back! Sorry to keep you all waiting but it's finally here. Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed part one and thank for your patience. Don't forget to tell us what you think of the characters, the events and what you think is gonna happen next._

_But that's enough chit-chat, it's time to tune back into the interviews for more shock confessions, backstage drama and gorgeous outfits._

_-Love, Miss Mockingjay_

* * *

**Quin Emery's POV (D7)**

The coin flips round and round in mid-air, the lights above making its bronze surface glisten. I catch it as it falls back down to Earth. The Seals of all the Districts, surrounding the Capitol seal faces up.

"It's tails," I tell Alanna and Ian, putting my token back in the breast pocket of my plain black blazer.

I have one of the few stylists who sees their tribute as more than a living mannequin that wears their creations. When I told Angelica I wanted something simple she was happy to design a minimalistic black pants and blazer combo with a crisp white shirt. But she insisted on putting a pin in the shape of an oak tree on the blazer, saying I'd look excoriatingly boring without any accessories.

"You based your decision on whether we should get another ally on the flip of coin?" Alanna frowns.

"I guess you can't afford to stand around struggling with decisions in the Games," Ian tells her.

"Exactly," I smile at him. "So, who's going to ask them?"

"Since they're going to be all our allies if they agree, we should all go," she says with an authority which cannot be argued with, but I'm still going to try.

"But I've got my interview soon. Besides, it was you who first suggested the tributes of five should join us, so you should ask them," I say, trying to match her tone.

"We need to show her we're a united force and we all want them on our team," she argues, hands on hips.

"I don't, I think we're just fine on our own," Ian mutters, already looking fed up with our bickering.

Ever since we all teamed up Alanna and I have argued over pretty much everything. I'm usually a pretty easy-going guy, but I'm also a natural leader. My first instincts are always to take the lead, but Alanna has also seemed to have set her sights on dominance.

It's a good thing Ian is with us because we can't seem to agree on many things, so the decision often falls down to him. Except this time it had to come down to the coin because he voted no, Alanna voted yes, and I couldn't decide which side to take.

"Well the coin has spoken," I say as Fidget returns from his perfectly average interview and Blythe takes to the stage. "Fine, we'll all go," I sigh as I realize we don't have time to argue.

The Five Girl is talking to her district partner, who has just return with a bandaged hand.

"I swear it's not as bad as it looks, Amaris. The bandages are just a precaution to stop the cut opening up if I move my hand around much. They'll be off in the morning," I hear him try to reassure her as we get closer to them.

"But she still hurt you, Mercury, and we're not even in the arena yet!" the girl, who I now know is called Amaris says, sounding angry, but there's a frightened look in her eye. "We can't try to forget about this, she won't let us…" she glances at Howl who glares back at her.

"Hey." Alanna steps forward, smiling friendlily at her. "Me and my allies," she motions to me and Ian, "couldn't help but hear you guys talking. There's no doubt after the way you stood up to that little psycho—which was amazing by the way—you're number one on her hit list. So you're going to need some protection, and there's safety in numbers."

Mercury looks slightly confused. "Are you suggesting our alliances come together?" he asks.

"Yeah, you guys seem pretty cool, and we need all the help we can get if we're going to take on the Careers," I interject.

"Wait. You guys want to fight the Careers?" Amaris asks, looking shocked.

"Well, not fight them exactly; just find a way to take them out," I explain. "They're the biggest threats in the arena and we need to destroy them before they destroy us." My voice sounds full of fight when I say this. After what happened to my mother, I've always known I'd find a way to eliminate the Careers before I suffer the same fate. But the vicious undertone it has surprises and slightly scares me. I'm not a monster that's thirsty for blood like them; I just want to average her.

"What makes you think you think we'll agree to such a risky strategy?" Mercury asks skeptically.

"We all heard Howl's threat. She wants you two dead and she'll get the whole Career pack behind her. You're their enemy now, and have you ever heard the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Ian asks with a small smile. Alanna nods.

"They're the cat and we're the mice. But I think it's about time the mice fight back, don't you?" she says.

The two of them stare at us, their eyebrows knitted together in thought.

Suddenly the chubby boy from eleven, Alanna's district partner, walks out of men's bathroom next them.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" he asks them, eyeing us as he speaks.

_Why is he talking to them? Oh yes, now I remember, he's their ally! Of course, he was there during the fight, how could we forget about him so easily? Especially Alanna!_ I think.

Just as Amaris is about to say something my name is called over the speakers.

"Umm…we'll catch up with you later. The boys and I want to talk about this alone," she says, gently taking the two younger boys by the arm as she walks away.

My interview has gone pretty well so far. I've made the audience laugh a few times and none of seem bored. Caesar just finished asking me about strategy, which was has been the hardest bit to answer because we've all agreed not to reveal our plan to go against the Careers in our interviews.

"Speaking of the Games, your mother was a tribute herself! Unfortunately it was the year the legendary Flint Jones won." I tense up slightly at the very mention of his name. Flint has the biggest kill record in Hunger Games history; one of the numbers that make it up is her. "Who here remembers Clara Willows?" he asks the crowd. There are only a few cheers here and there. It shouldn't surprise me that the Capitol has forgotten about her; there have been so many lost to the bloodbath over the years. But I can't stop the anger boiling within me at the thought that that's all they see when they hear about her: just another bloodbath casualty.

"That's why I have to win. I can't leave my father all alone. It'll tear him apart if I died, and I can't let myself be forgotten as she has. If I win, I'm going to dedicate my victory to her so that then you'll all remember the name Clara Willows," I declare as the buzzer goes off, and I mean every single word.

**Thread West's POV (D8)**

I watch Airley fidget next to the stage during the District 7 boy's interview.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"Uh-huh," she murmurs, nodding staring at the floor.

"It's not just that though, is it? There's something else," I say seriously. She looks up at me with big doe like eyes which are looking a bit bloodshot. They were in complete contrast with her pale skin which has become even lighter these last few days, so light I could see her veins when I looked closely this morning. She was with the prep team the longest as they covered her body with fake tan.

"N-no, apart from the apart from going into the wilderness to watch innocent people being slaughtered, I'm totally fine!" she snaps.

"No you're not. You've been twitching and having mood swings since about three days ago, and they've been getting worse," I reply, ignoring her defensive tone. I don't know Airley very well, but I've bonded with her the most over the last week. I can see she's a sweet, bubbly girl who can be trusted. But lately that girl has been slowly fading away to be replaced by a nervy, irritable and emotional yo-yo, crying in her room one minute and chattering away happily at the dinner table the next.

She stares down at her shuffling, yellow shoes which match her knee length dress.

"I know about you and Lynx," she suddenly blurts out.

I can't help but give a little gasp at this revelation. I'd been so careful sneaking him into my room, I sure nobody saw.

"How did you…?"

"I saw him leave your room, without his clothes."

I can feel the heat rush through my cheeks. That makes sense; I fell asleep before he left. There's no other reasonable explanation for what she saw so I don't deny it.

"So…you like him then, like _really_ like him," she gives a teasing smile and nudges me with her elbow, trying to lighten up the situation.

I see him standing with the other Careers across the room. Our eyes meet. He smiles at me, an affectionate look in his eyes. I don't return it, feeling only a slight awkwardness in his presence.

"No," I say abruptly.

"Then why…?"

"It was just a little one night thing, he means nothing to me," I say with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Oh, right. Does he know that?" she asks.

"I don't think so," I shrug. "Is that what's been bothering you? Keeping that secret from me?"

"Uh…yeah, I'm not very good with secrets." Her eyes dart around the room and she starts to fidget again. _You're also not very good at lying_. I'm about to say this when her name is called. She grins at me nervously.

"Well, wish me luck," she calls back as she jumps onto the stage.

All her strange behavior over the last few days seems to evaporate as she sits down and chats away animatedly. She gives sweet, funny and endearing answers, making the audience fall in love with her by the time her interview is over. As she hugs Caesar and soaking up their cheers. I sense someone is close to me.

"Hi," Lynx almost whispers, running a hand through his hair, a tentative smile appearing on his lips.

"Um, hi," I reply casually.

"I, er…just wanted to wish you good luck, you know, for the interview," he says.

Airley walks past us, giving us a curious glance. It's my turn now.

"Thanks," I mutter as I walk out in front of the crowd. The lust from that night is completely gone; the only connection between us now is the fact that we are both tributes in these Games.

"So, Thread, have you ever been in love?" Caesar raises his eyebrows at me, hoping to breaking through my intimidating angle I've kept on throughout the first 3 minutes.

"Yes," I reply; the audience "awws" pathetically. "I was in love, but they threw my feelings right back in face," I growl, trying to ignore the twinge of sadness in the pit of my stomach.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. I've learned since then that love is fleeting, but spite can last forever. When I win these Games I'm going to make them sorry they ever rejected me."

"I have no doubt they will be sorry. What are your feelings towards the other tributes?"

"Airley is the only person here who I give a damn about what happens to them. She's my ally. Everyone else is collateral damage for my victory," I state matter-of-factly.

"My, my, those are some very harsh, but honest words, Thread," Caesar says as my time on stage draws to a close.

Lynx is still standing by the side of the stage when I go back. He looks at me with an expression of confusion and hurt.

"Thread…" he starts to say, but I blot him out as I walk right past him.

I should feel guilty and part of me wishes I did. But I don't. All I feel is relief that I don't have to deal with his awkward glances anymore. Now I can focus on winning.

**Clarence Klaxon's POV (D9)**

I stare out the expectant audience and feel my legs turn to jelly. I'm so full of nerves that just walking out here without shaking is enough of a challenge, let alone answering questions.

"Hello, Clarence." Caesar shakes my hand.

"H-h-ello, C-c-aesar," I stammer. _Oh no, if I can't ever handle a simple greeting how am I going to make it through an entire interview?_ He laughs as I sit down.

"Now, now Clarence, there's now need to nervous. You're in very experienced hands." He wriggles his fingers and the crowd laughs. "Why don't you start by telling us a bit about yourself."

"Ok. I'm thirteen… I have an older brother called Brock…" I babble on and on robotically for at least a minute. Caesar is the only one who's even pretending to be vaguely interested. When I finally finish spilling out very little detail about myself—afraid I'd have nothing else to say if I didn't—Caesar throws his hands up.

"Goodness, Clarence! I asked you to tell us a bit about yourself, not your entire life story." The audience burst into hysterics. I know Caesar just wants to make them laugh and like me, but they're all laughing at me, not with.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"Let's move on to the Games. What do make of the twist this year?"

"It's certainly going to make things even harder," is all I can think of saying.

As time goes on, the interview becomes more and uncomfortable as I can feel everyone around me mentally switching off. The only claps I get are out of politeness.

As I walk off the nerves are replaced with pure frustration. I'm so angry with myself! That was the last chance I had to get sponsors and I ruined it! No one would want to sponsor me now, and without sponsors I'm dead for sure.

I storm past everyone backstage. Once I find a corridor that's completely deserted, I start hammering my head against the wall, chanting "stupid, stupid, stupid!" Suddenly a firm pair of hands grabs me and pulls me away from it.

"Clarence! What do you think you're doing? You'll hurt yourself!" Bryn screams at me as Baron runs towards us.

"What does it matter if I do? If I'm lucky enough to make it past the bloodbath, no one will sponsor me now. I'm boring and nerdy; nobody wants to sponsor someone like that," I mumble angrily, rubbing my sore head. "This was probably my last chance to get sponsors, and I blew it!"

"You did the best you could. I know how shy you are and how much courage it took to even stand on that stage. That's really admirable," she puts a reassuring arm around my shoulder.

"Yeah, and it's not like we did much better either," Baron adds.

"No way! You two were much better. Baron, you showed how much of a genius you are and Bryn was totally loveable," I argue.

"So were you. You might not be as brash or loud as the Careers, but you're sweet," Bryn insists.

"Yeah, that's really gonna come in handy in the arena, I'm far too sweet to kill. Come on, you all know I won't make past the Cornucopia," I scoff.

"Yes you will! Baron and I have got your back. We might be the three biggest underdogs in these Games, but we're a team. I don't know about you, but I'm not going down without a fight," Bryn yells. I've never seen her so fired up.

"I won't either," Baron declares with steely determination.

I look at them, my allies. No, my friends. For the first time since being reaped, I truly realize I won't be alone in the Games. They will be right beside me.

"Neither am I."

**Elsa Rose's POV (D10)**

"So tell me, Elsa, who's rooting for you back home?" Caesar asks me.

"My parents and little brother, Toby. And…my friend, Harvey." The word friend sounds wrong against name. One, because the only person I've ever called my friend is Hollie, and since she died two years ago it's felt wrong to call anyone else that, because I've trusted anyone as fully as I've trusted her and nobody could ever replace her. And two, he's so much more than that. But I can never tell anyone that. If he ever found out I love him, it would only leave him even more torn between me and Karlsson, and I couldn't do that to him.

After the buzzer concludes my time on stage, I go back to the screening room. My feet let out small, sharp bursts of pain as I totter around in red stilettos backstage. I hear giggling behind me.

"What are you laughing at?" I snap at Karlsson. I hate being mocked and it's something I get a bit paranoid about.

"You walk a bit like a drunken duck those!" he smirks. "No offense," he adds when he sees my face. I growl and trot away. "Hey, Elsa, come back!" he calls after me.

"He of all people should know what it's like to be laughed at. Why would he say that?" I mumble to myself as I walk down the corridor towards the stage.

"Because I'm your friend, and friends tease each other," his voice pipes up beside me, a shred of uncertainty in it. "At least that's what I think they do."

"Oh, right. I wouldn't know much about that, due to my total lack of experience when it comes to friendship," I say, my lips pulling my face into a shy little smile. I'm still not completely sure if I can trust him. Even back home I have trust issues.

"Me neither." He wears the same smile.

"So…you see me as friend?" I look at him quizzically.

"Uh…yeah. You're one of the only people I know who doesn't just see some fat little rich kid, or talked to without ever making jab about my weight," he murmurs.

"And you're one of the only people who doesn't seem to think I'm weird or are intimidated by me. So I guess that does sort of make us friends," I smile ruefully. The word friend no longer seems strange, or a betrayal to Hollie, because for the first time since she went, I feel like I can completely trust someone. But that thought only makes the knot in my stomach tighten at the fought of him dying if I am to live.

**Reed Wallace's POV (D11)**

I can feel Amaris' and Mercury's eyes boring into me as I process what I've just been told.

"So…what do you think? Do you want to ally with them?" Mercury eventually asks.

I go over everything I remember about Quin, Alanna and the District 12 boy whose name I can't even remember. Quin seemed smart and strong in his interview, but when he talked about his mother there was a fiery look in his eyes. He looked more than willing to kill to win, and that thought frightens me. Alanna is strong too, but she's extremely outspoken and sarcastic. She seems okay when we were hanging around in the apartment after training, but I find it hard to tell if she's joking or really means what she says. I don't much about the other boy, but I do know he can fight and he looks pretty tough.

"Well, they all look like really strong tributes, so they could definitely help defend us. But they also sound like they want to fight with the Careers, and we don't want that, do we?" I finally say. They both shake their heads.

"But it's as they said: we're top on Howl's hit list now, and we're gonna need all the protection we can get," Amaris adds, glancing at Quin who's watching Alanna's interview intently. When she explained their offer to me, Amaris sounded more keen than Mercury to accept it, which I guess is perfectly understandable since it was she who attacked Howl.

"But we don't know what their plan is. What if it's really risky and we get killed because of it?" Mercury says bluntly. "I think as long as we stay away from Howl we'll be just fine."

"But what's to stop her hunting her hunting us down?" Amaris retorts. "We can't keep running from her and we certainly can't fight her and rest of the pack on our own. Right, Reed?"

They both stare at me, silently willing me take their side. One of our team is voting yes and the other is voting no. Whoever I back up gets to make the final decision. The problem is, I don't know who I want to side with.

I sit in silence, not looking at either of them. Then Quin and the Twelve boy come up to us.

"Hey, guys. We were just wondering if you'd made a decision yet," Quin says casually. As the two of them look at us expectantly I remember the way they looked at me when I saw them with Amaris and Mercury. They looked like they were slightly confused as to why I was talking to them, as if they didn't know that I'm their ally.

Suddenly I realize why. They took no interest in us until Amaris had that fight Howl, and they were looking at her while they were talking. They're not interested in allying with our team; they want to ally with her! But they know they also have to take me and Mercury in too.

My name is called out across the speakers. I'm usually extremely trusting, but since being thrown into this game so full of betrayals, I've had to teach myself to be more careful. I'm glad I did.

"The answer is no," I say before walking to the stage.

**Tymia Lixe's POV (D12)**

I linger on the outside of the little circle the pack has formed, listening in to their conversation.

"Ha, look at him! He's almost as fat as that District 10 kid! I bet if you cut him open gravy would flow instead of blood!" Howl cackles at the District 11 boy on the TV screen. Giselle and Evadne laugh. I pretend to laugh too, not wanting to be left out.

Although I've been accepted into the Careers, I still feel a bit like an outsider. Giselle and Howl completely ignore me most of the time, and the boys don't talk to me much either. I know I need their protection and access to all the supplies they're going to get if I'm ever going to see Olliy or my family again, but I just can't shake the feeling that I don't belong with them. I'm not vicious or mean like the other girls are.

"Yeah, he's so stupid too. Trying act like that geek from Three, when the cakes he munches on are smarter than him!" Evadne giggles. She turns to me. "Don't you think, Tymia?"

Suddenly all eyes are on me, demanding I join in their horrible taunts to prove that I'm one them now.

"Yeah. His weird glasses make his look big. They're like, frog eyes," I say with a fake smile. Their laughter should make me feel better, like I'm being accepted. But all I feel is guilt at how easily I could say something so mean about someone I hardly know anything about. Maybe I am turning into one of them.

The last few minutes I've spent with Caesar have gone by in a blur. I've tried to stay happy and bubbly while answering questions and I've made the audience laugh a few times.

"Now, I'm sorry to tell some of the boys out there you're taken, isn't that right?" Caesar says.

"Yes. I'm totally in love with my boyfriend Olliy, I'd do anything for him. I'd do anything to see him again." There's a big aww from the audience at this. That question is my last one.

I re-join my allies backstage and watch Ian's interview. It must be really hard being the last one, but he makes it look easy. He's instantly charming and likable.

"So, have you got any special girl in your life?" Caesar asks him.

"Yes, I do. She's the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful girl I've ever meet. But she has no idea I love her," he says sadly.

"Oh, who is she?"

"My best friend." There are a lot of sympathetic noises from the crowd. Howl makes a vomiting voice beside me, putting her fingers down her throat.

"Oh I see, you're afraid telling her would spoil your friendship."

"That's right. But if I win maybe it would convince her to give being more than friends a chance," he smiles.

"And how far would you go to win?"

"I'm not going down without a fight and if I have to kill, I will. But I would never betray my district by joining a group of ruthless tributes who see murder as sport, unlike some people," he mutters angrily.

It takes me a second to realize he's talking about me. He thinks I'm a traitor! Will other people think that when they see me with the Careers? Would my family and Olliy think that? Would they forgive if I become as blood thirsty as them?

But it's too late to leave the Careers now. In the morning I'll be fighting alongside them. Tomorrow I could become a murderer.

* * *

_Phew, that's it, we're done! Sorry it took such a long time._

_So what do you guys think? What was your favourite POV, who do you like the most ?What do you make of Reed turning down Quin's offer, what about Thread's coldness to towards Lynx, is Tymia really a traitor?_

_P.S.: If you like my writing why don't you check out my one-shots The hunt and Game Changer, or my full length story, Watching. Sorry for the shameless self-promotion but I could really do with some feedback._

_Anyways, thanks for reading :D._

* * *

**_A/N (from krigoo): _**_A big thanks to Miss Mockingjay once again for the second half of the interviews! I think she did a great job writing. You guys should all read her stories!_

_Anyway, I'll be taking over the rest of the story from here. I'm nearly finished writing the first day of the Games (which is the next chapter), but I realllly need to do my summer reading, so it might be a few more days until it's posted._

_Until then, review to save your tribute's life! Tributes whose submitters have yet to review will die within the first two or three days._

_One last note: I'm keeping the poll up on my profile, so vote for it if you haven't already (It's not mandatory, so it won't affect your tribute's life)._

_See you next chapter :)_


	10. Day One

_**A/N: **Hey everyone, it's krigoo again! We're finally here: Day One of the 44th Annual Hunger Games! Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor._

* * *

_For we grew up tall and proud  
In the shadow of the mushroom cloud  
Convinced our voices can't be heard  
We just wanna scream it louder and louder and louder_

_What the hell we fighting for?_  
_Just surrender and it won't hurt at all_  
_You just got time to say your prayers_  
_While you're waiting for the hammer to fall_

___Song: Hammer to Fall - Queen_

* * *

**DAY 1**

**Amaris Stevens' POV (D5)**

The walls of the glass tube enclose around me, trapping me in its tiny space. Fear makes my stomach tie itself in knots as my stylist waves goodbye. "Good luck!" she calls as the launch room disappears from view. _I'm gonna need a whole lot more than luck._

The sudden blinding light reflecting off the Cornucopia is almost painful for my eyes as the plate lifts me into the arena. The first thing to hit me is the blistering heat. I wipe the sweat off my off my brow and look around. To my left I see the boy from Nine shaking with fear on his plate. I turn my head to my right to see the boy from Ten using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the sweat pouring down his face. I look farther to my right to see rain pouring down on the girls from Nine and Three, along with the boy from Four. What is going on? Why isn't it raining here? Confusion clouds my fear as I turn towards the other tributes.

My gaze shifts back to the left. The tributes over there are nearly getting blown off of their plates by the wind. I look directly behind the Cornucopia where it appears to be snowing. It's almost as though the arena is…_split into the four seasons_. How is this possible? Well, it is the Hunger Games after all.

My attention snaps back to the amount of seconds we have left: thirty. Just thirty seconds before my potential death. Questions whirl through my head at a million miles an hour. Do I go into the bloodbath to fight? Or do I run the other way? And which climate do I want to head for?

I look around and spot Howl in the rainy section about five tributes away from me. Her eyes are locked on something in the Cornucopia. She senses me looking at her and stares back for a second. She grins sadistically and runs her hand across her throat before turning back to the Cornucopia. I suddenly realize that if I head into the bloodbath, I'll surely be her target. I only have one option: to run as far away as possible and pray she doesn't want me bad enough to chase me.

**Proudlock Kasabian's POV (D4)**

The rain beats down on me, making my blood run even colder in my veins. My eyes scan the ground. A few feet away from the plate I'm standing on is a packet of dried beef that I'll be sure to grab. Several feet closer is a small pack that's about the size of my foot. I'll just grab the pack and the beef and meet Blythe to find a tree to camp in. I make eye contact with her across the plain. I look from her, to the supplies I want, and back to her. She nods and looks at an ax near the mouth of the Cornucopia, and back to me again. I frantically shake my head no. She'll get killed by a Career and I'll have no ally. And, why not admit it, she reminds me of Cady, and the thought of seeing her die sends shivers down my spine.

I look up at the remaining seconds being flashed on the Cornucopia. Fifteen. I position my feet and look at Blythe once again. She has a look of determination on her face, eyes locked on the ax. Surely the boy from her district will want that, too. She's just asking for trouble. I wish I could tell her this, but I can't let anyone else know what she's going to do, and there's no time.

Ten seconds left. I wipe the rain water off of my forehead and out of my eyes. I hear a grunt of frustration from Bryn on my right as she pushes locks of her wet hair off of her face. Not too used to rain, I bet.

I look to my right at the quivering Selena. Her teeth are chattering and her eyebrows are knitted in fear. I look back at the Cornucopia. Five seconds remain. I take a deep breath and block them all out. I block out the freezing rain, the beeping of the clock and the panicked breathing all around me. It's just me, the pack and the distance between us.

The gong sounds.

**Clarence Klaxon's POV (D9)**

I watch as Bryn positions her feet to run towards the Cornucopia. Why, Bryn? I wanted to run as far away as possible, but now I can't. I promised Brock that I wouldn't kill her, and watching her throw her life away as I run the other way isn't just cowardly; it's despicable. How dare I call this girl a friend if I can't even bring myself to fight by her side? Especially after we vowed to have each other's back last night. I can't see Baron anywhere, but I hope he can see us go into the bloodbath and helps us get out alive. After all, we're a team, aren't we?

The gong sounds and I run for a blue backpack about twenty feet in front of me. Just as my hand closes around the strap, I hear a scream. My head flies towards the Cornucopia as I watch Giselle slit Selena's throat. Suddenly, all my senses are knocked out of me as I'm tackled to the ground. I expect to see the face of a Career leering down at me. But it's Alanna's face that meets mine.

"Sorry, kid, but this pack is mine," she says evenly. I watch her pull out a knife and I know I'm done. I try to struggle but it's no use. I turn my head to the right and watch Bryn fall to the ground with a bloody arrow in her chest.

"Br…" I begin to yell, but before even finish her name I feel a sharp, burning pain go right through my heart. Then the world goes black.

**Lynx Swanson's POV (D2)**

I quickly rummage through supplies buried deep in the Cornucopia. All I can hear is screams of pure fear and pain, the clash of metal on metal and blades cutting into flesh.

As my hand grips the sword I was looking for, I whirl around to find Thread grabbing a large pack and a sleeping bag. In his other hand is a curved sickle. He's so close I can smell his usual scent: fabric softener and copper, which must have clung to him since he left the clothing factories of Eight.

"So Airley is the only person you care for in these Games?" I spit at him. "I'm just collateral damage, am I? Another notch on your best post?" He took a piece of me I can never get back purely out of lust and spite. I feel so…so angry, so hurt, so used.

Thread looks up at me, eyes wide. "Lynx…"

"It's too bad for her. Your time is up, Thread," I say grimly.

He turns to run, but it's too late. My sword has impaled him through his chest. I watch the life leave his eyes as I hear Evadne scream, clutching her chest and dropping to her knees just outside the Cornucopia. There's no sign of injury, so she must've been Thread's pain partner.

I look back down at Thread's body, curled up in the fetal position and soaking in a puddle of his blood, the white snow around him turning scarlet. Does everyone look so young and vulnerable when they're dead? He doesn't look like the person who was so cold to me last night. He looks like the boy who ran his fingers through my hair and told me that I wasn't alone, that people should accept who I am.

The anger within me evaporates, only to be replaced by an empty kind of sadness I've never felt before.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper as the tear rolls down my cheek and splashes onto his forehead.

**Freja Porger's POV (D6)**

I run through the forest in the hot section of the arena, tree branches slashing against my arms. I had no intentions of running towards the Cornucopia, but as I ran for the woods, I turned around to see where Fidget and Selena were. I spotted Selena on the ground and saw Fidget struggling with Howl. I can only hope he made it out alive.

Suddenly, a searing pain hits my stomach. It feels blazing hot, then horribly, horribly cold. I drop to my knees and clutch my stomach as tears pour down my cheeks. I look at my belly, expecting an arrow or a knife, but nothing is there. I lift up my shirt, expecting a bruise or blood, but there's no sign of an injury. I suddenly remember about the pain partners, and I know mine must have gotten a weapon to the stomach. I curl up in the fetal position, clutching my abdomen and silently weeping. Sure, I'm used to pain from my father's blows, but this injury is fatal, and whoever I'm partnered up with is dying slowly. I feel another stab higher in my stomach, and suddenly, the pain vanishes. My pain partner must have just died in the bloodbath. I feel a strange sense of loss. Unless he's Fidget, I don't really know him because he and Selena were the only people I really talked to. But we were connected. There were invisible chains that bound us together, and now they're gone. He's been set free.

As I lie in a sweaty, tear-filled puddle, I hear the cannons and count to myself. Six. Six tributes are gone. Six lives lost. Six families weeping for the loss of their children. Six less people between me and my way home.

But do I want to go home? Do I want to go back to the parents who'll never love me again? No, I don't have to go back to them, I can live in Victor's village on the other side of the district, far far away from them. It's this thought that helps me push aside my fear and grief for Selena and my unknown pain partner. If I am to win, I can't dwell on death because in the end, that's what's going to help me win.

The sun is beginning to set now, and I decide to set up camp. I pick a tall tree with a sturdy trunk and begin to climb. I stop about thirty feet up and position myself in the crook of two branches. I realize that if Fidget's out there, he'd never be able to climb this tree. But that's his problem now, not mine. I'm just lucky I made it up here alive. I wipe the sweat off of my forehead as the anthem begins to play.

**Ian Redstone's POV (D12)**

I watch as the two from District Three, the boys from Six and Eight, and the two from Nine flash in the sky. The six bloodbath victims have been revealed. All the Careers have survived. It will be a dangerous night.

"Let's set up camp in this tree," Alanna says, stopping at a tree with no low branches.

"You're the only one of us who can climb," Quin tells her. "Can we find something that's more of a compromise?"

She sighs. "Alright, Quin. If you think you can find something better, then by all means, lead the way."

Quin exhales and adjusts his pack on his shoulders. He brushes past Alanna before walking farther and farther away from the direction of the Cornucopia. We follow him as the wind blows strongly, sometimes nearly knocking us over. The trees begin to thicken, but we keep walking.

"Where are we going?" Alanna asks.

"You told me to lead the way," Quin grunts.

"That didn't answer my question," she scoffs.

"I don't know where I'm going. I'm just looking for somewhere safe for us to settle down," he explains. "Until we find something decent, we have to keep going."

I have to bite my lip to stop myself from telling them both to shut up since every time they seem to open their mouths it's to argue with each other.

The three of us walk through the thick forest before it suddenly clears. We look out into the new terrain: rolling hills of lush grass, with a rickety old barn in the distance.

"That's it," Quin whispers.

"What?" I ask him.

"That's where we'll set up camp," he says.

"What, that crummy old barn?" Alanna asks. "Quin, that will hardly protect us from the wind. Besides, hiding in that barn would be like holding up a sign saying, 'There are obviously some tributes in here! Come and get us!'"

"Exactly. It's so obvious that it's an easy hiding spot that no one will think anyone's in it. Besides, it's a roof over our heads and we'll take turns keeping watch," Quin explains.

"Alright," Alanna sighs. "But everyone keep your weapons ready in case any tributes are already in there."

As we walk towards the barn, each of us grips our weapons. Alanna and I hold our knives as Quin holds his throwing ax. None of us are happy, since Alanna wanted a bow, Quin wanted a large ax, and I wanted a sword, but at least we all have weapons.

We approach the barn and Quin cautiously opens the door. No one seems to have touched this barn in decades. The roof has several holes and the planks of wood that make up the walls have gaping spaces in some areas, but it blocks the wind well enough and, as Quin said, it's a roof over our heads.

The three of us sit down on the floor of the barn in a circle and empty our packs. Quin has a large green pack, Alanna has a large navy blue pack, and I have a small yellow pack. I wanted no part of the bloodbath and grabbed the nearest thing I found useful, which happened to be my pack. In it is a small water bottle, a packet of dried fruit, and iodine to purify my water.

"Have either of you guys seen a source of water?" I ask them.

"Come to think of it, no. What are we going to do?" Alanna asks.

"We've got to find something first thing tomorrow morning," Quin says. "Otherwise we'll get dehydrated and our chances of being ambushed by the Careers will increase."

Alanna and I nod in agreement. Finally something we all agree on.

"So who wants to keep first watch?" Quin asks.

Alanna and I look at each other, then back to Quin. No one says a word. We have no idea whether or not we can trust each other.

"I'll take the first watch, I guess," I sigh.

Alanna and Quin glance at me, then back at each other. I can sense that they both trust me much more than they trust one another. They put their backpacks on the ground to use as pillows as they lie down, clutching their weapons in their hands just in case. I have no plans of killing either of them in their sleep. Even if I did, it wouldn't be smart. The one would hear the other's screams and wake up and kill me. When I need to betray my allies, it will be a fair fight. But no matter what, I'll do what it takes to get back home.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Hey again. I wanted to keep my author's note at the top short, since you were probably so excited that you would've scrolled right past it if it were any longer (that's to say if you read it at all)._

_But anyway, it was so sad to see our dear bloodbaths go. Alas, the show must go on._

_I'd like to thank Miss Mockingjay for helping me with this chapter and for writing the past two chapters. She's such a fabulous writer and a huuuge help to me._

_The results of the poll are up. Check it out on my profile if you care._

_I'll be updating the blog with the deaths and such, so check that out if you want. I put the link to the blog on my profile._

_Also, as I said in the previous chapter, I have summer reading to finish. I was put in an AP Lit class with seniors (I'm a junior) and there's a lot of work to be done that I put off until now. I'll be writing the next chapter here and there, but don't expect an update until the end of the month, if not September. I know it sucks to wait so long, but I hope you all understand._

_Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Don't forget to review; it could save your tribute's life!_


	11. Day Two

_Just look at all those hungry mouths we have to feed  
Take a look at all the suffering we breed  
So many lonely faces scattered all around  
Searching for what they need_

_Is this the world we created?_  
_What did we do it for?_  
_Is this the world we invaded_  
_Against the law_  
_So it seems in the end_  
_Is this what we're all living for today_  
_The world that we created_

_Song: Is This the World We Created? - Queen_

* * *

**DAY 2**

**Elsa Rose's POV (D10) ****– 10am arena time**

"Elsa, please, wait up," Karlsson pants from behind me.

"Come on, Karlsson. We've only been walking for an hour," I say, exasperated.

"I know, but all that walking yesterday tired me out," he explains. "Besides, what's wrong with where we were at? No one found us at our camp last night."

"We have to keep moving. If we stay in one spot, the chances of someone finding us are much higher," I tell him.

"But can't we wait until it's cooler?" he wines. My patience is really wearing thin.

"It's not going to get any cooler, Karlsson! We've been walking for a day and it has yet to cool down. Maybe if you'd stop complaining, we could actually pick up our pace and get somewhere cooler," I snap.

"Sorry," he murmurs. I turn around and look at him for the first time since he started to lag behind. His cheeks look especially red and the drops of sweat dripping down his face glisten in the light of the sun peeking through the trees. "I just want to get out of this heat. I don't know how much more of this I can take." He takes a swig of water from his canteen and wipes his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt.

"We'll get to another section of the arena soon, alright? Just keep following me," I tell him.

Karlsson pulls his backpack on his shoulders and slowly stands up. He grips his knife tighter as I clutch my blowgun. Karlsson was too scared to go into the bloodbath, but I'm a pretty fast runner and realized that I couldn't survive for more than a few days without weapons or supplies. So, I ran towards the Cornucopia, grabbed two backpacks, and met up with Karlsson at the edge of the forest. One pack was filled with supplies like rope, a first aid kit, two water bottles, and four packets of dried fruit. In the other backpack were two knives, a blowgun, and darts. Karlsson and I split the weapons, deciding that if either of us died, the other would likely be nearby to take the pack or dead too.

"My water's running out, Elsa. We need to find a lake or a river or something," Karlsson tells me.

I hold back another sigh and smile. "Alright. But in order to find water, that means we need to keep going. Are you okay with that?"

"If it means I won't be dehydrated, then I'm all for it," he replies.

We walk for about another half hour when the trees start to clear and we reach a beach with white sand, palm trees, and a bright blue ocean that expands as far as the eye can see.

"It's beautiful," Karlsson whispers.

I nod, frowning. "Too beautiful."

"You think that water's good for drinking?" he asks me, gesturing to the ocean.

"Absolutely not. Not only is it most likely salt water, but it's probably poisonous or filled with fish mutts," I tell him.

"Well, I'm parched. I think I'll go try some," Karlsson says.

"No! Don't," I exclaim, grabbing him by the arm. "I won't let you get yourself killed in such a stupid way."

"She's right. Getting killed by one of us is much better," a deadly female voice says from the forest behind us.

I whirl around to find Evadne Caraway and Tymia Lixe standing about thirty yards away. My blood runs cold, freezing me to the spot for a second. Then a shot of pure adrenaline shots through my body like a lightning bolt.

"Run!" I scream.

Karlsson and I run down the stretch of beach for about half a mile before I hear the sound of something whizzing through the air and Karlsson's sharp cry of pain. I turn my head to see him fall to his knees, an arrow in his back.

"Karlsson!" I cry.

I hear Evadne's cackle about twenty yards behind him. As she reaches back to grab another arrow from her quiver, I bring my blowgun to my mouth, holding it with shaking hands. But they're not shaking out of fear; they're shaking with anger. I aim and exhale. The dart flies through the air, right in the middle of Evadne's neck. She clutches her throat, dropping to her knees. Tymia catches up to Evadne, and looks at her convulsing body and spies the dart. She looks up at me, sees the blowgun in my hand, and runs away.

Evadne makes a strange gurgling noise as she coughs up blood. Then she goes completely ridged.

The sound of a cannon nearly scares me to death. I look down at Karlsson, who is sobbing profusely. The cannon must have been Evadne's. I grab Karlsson's hand and look him straight in the eye. This boy, the mayor's son, Harvey's cousin, _my friend_, should never have been in the Games. He never had to take any tesserae. He had the best life of anyone in District Ten. But he's here in the arena, clinging to my hand for life.

"Elsa…" he whispers.

"Yes?"

"You have to win this. Make it back to Harvey. Send my family the best when you get home, will you?"

"Karlsson, no! You can't give up now! I won't let you can't die on me!" I exclaim, letting the tears flow over my eyelids, not ashamed to cry.

"Elsa, it's my time. I was never going to win. But you have a chance. Tell my family I love them."

"I will," I croak as a lump forms in my throat. He's being so brave, so accepting of his fate.

"Thank you, Elsa. You've been such a good friend," Karlsson says.

Just then, the light leaves his eyes and his cannon fires. I gently draw his eyelids over them and wipe the tears from my own eyes, take his backpack, and stand up. I walk over to Evadne's body, contemplating taking her bow and arrows, but I decide against it. Instead, I pluck the dart from her neck and load it back in the blowgun. I step over her body and make my way back into the forest without turning back.

**Tymia Lixe's POV (D12) ****– 10:45am arena time**

I run through the forest as fast as I can. After seeing the look in the eyes of the District Ten girl when she killed Evadne, I want no part of her. I can only hope she won't pursue me. I hear the sound of a cannon fire, and I know it must be the boy from Ten.

I can't escape the images and sounds that attack my mind, filling it with horror and guilt. The chubby boy falling and crying out, the Ten girl screaming his name, Evadne convulsing in the sand. And what did I do when all these things happened? Nothing. I just stood there as the only person who was ever nice to me here spent her last seconds having a fit and choking on her own blood.

Why didn't I rush to help her? I didn't scream for her like the Ten girl did for her ally; I just stood there numbly watching before running away.

_It's because you're a coward, Tymia. You were too afraid to face the girl who killed your ally! Is that why you joined the Careers? You were scared of what they could do to you, so you became one of them so they leave you alone, for now at least_, a voice that sounds like my spits at me in my head, sounding disgusted. Is it my conscience?

"I had no choice," I whisper to myself.

Did I?

Suddenly, I hear rustling in the bushes to my right. I draw my two knives and prepare for battle. I can't run away again. Not after running away from the Ten girl. I have to prove to the Capitol and myself that I can be brave.

I see two eyes look my way from one of the bushes and I leap into action. I pounce on the bush, but the tribute slips away. I stand up, gripping my knives tighter and pursue the tribute. Whoever it is obviously isn't up for a fight. Well, they better get ready, because I'm gaining on them.

All of a sudden, I feel something wrap around my foot. A million realizations hit me in a matter of milliseconds. This kid was trying to get me to follow him. He was leading me towards his little trap. Before the rope even has a chance to tighten around my foot, I throw the knife in my right hand at him, sinking it straight into his back, a pained cry echoing around the trees. As he falls down and as I'm pulled upside-down by my left ankle, I notice that it was the boy from District Five. His cannon fires before I realize what I've done: I just killed someone. I feel a pang of remorse, and have to remind myself that if I didn't kill him, he probably would have killed me.

I pull the upper half of my body towards the rope on the tree branch that keeps me dangling. I'm about ten, maybe fifteen feet up, but if I can cut myself free, this fall is a much better option than another tribute seeing me here as an easy kill.

I begin sawing away at the rope. It's strenuous work, but after about ten minutes, I'm free. I hit the ground with a thud, knocking all the wind out of me. I lie there, sucking in air for another five minutes, before beginning the long trek back to the Career camp.

**Blythe Cronin's POV (D7) ****– 8:30pm arena time**

As the sun begins to set, Proudlock and I decide that it would be a good time to start our fire to cook the squirrels we hunted. I build the fire as Proudlock makes the spit to roast them on.

"Who do you suppose died today?" I ask Proudlock.

"Beats me," he shrugs. "We'll find out soon."

We eat the squirrels, put out the fire, and climb up a tall sturdy tree. As Proudlock and I settle in, the anthem begins to play. The girl from Four appears, which is a shock. I look over at Proudlock to see if he has any reaction to his district partner's death. He keeps a straight face, but I can tell a small part of him is hurt. My attention turns back to the sky, where the boy from Five makes his final appearance, along with the boy from Ten. The sky darkens, and I look back to Proudlock.

"You okay?" I ask him.

"I'm fine," he shrugs. "She was just my district partner. It's just a little piece of home gone. She hardly even acknowledged my existence; just saw me as another obstacle to getting back home, so why not see her the same way?"

I nod. I know he and Evadne weren't close at all. They barely even spoke. But they shared a home district and there will always be that connection. Quin and I have the same type of relationship, and I'm sure one of us will feel the same way when the other dies.

"How many of us are left?" Proudlock asks me, trying to change the subject.

I think for a second before saying, "Fifteen. After two days, that's not a lot of deaths. I'm sure the Capitol is itching for some action."

We sit in silence for a long time, and I actually begin to nod off.

Suddenly, I feel a searing pain in my temple. I clutch my head in my hands, checking for blood. I pull my hand back and nothing's there. Then I feel a pain in my neck, as if it's being sliced open. My eyes bug out of my head and I look over at Proudlock in the branch next to me, taking a drink of water from his bottle. What's happening to my neck? Hot tears pool in my eyes and drip down my cheeks.

"Proudlock, help!" I sob.

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking genuinely concerned.

"My neck…it's being cut open!" I choke.

"No it's not," Proudlock says. "There's nothing wrong. You're fine."

"I'm not fine!" I hiss, the tears refusing to stop.

"It's probably your pain partner," he says.

I feel a wave of relief, having totally forgot about the twist, but the relief is soon replaced with more searing, agonizing pain.

"Well whoever is killing my pain partner better get it over with!" I screech.

"Shh, Blythe, you'll be alright," Proudlock says, joining me on my branch and gently pulling my head into his chest. He strokes his fingers through my hair and whispers soothing things in my ear, and before I know it, the pain is gone. I hear a cannon being fired and a sickening cackle follows from somewhere in the distance.

I look up at Proudlock, who looks at me cautiously.

"You alright?" he asks the same way I asked him earlier.

I nod. "Yes. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being there for me," I smile.

He smiles back. "No problem. That's what friends are for." He returns back to his branch. Seconds later, another cannon sounds. And another. Proudlock and I look at each other to make sure one of the cannons wasn't for one of us. I sit back in relief when I see that Proudlock is still alive, but my stomach churns when I realize that three tributes have just died in a matter of minutes. The amount of tributes that died yesterday have already died today. And that's to say more won't die later on. After all, the night is young.

**Patrick MacDougal's POV (D1) ****– 8:30pm arena time**

A flock of birds in the distant trees fly away with frightened squawks as Howl lets out a scream of pure rage at seeing the boy from Five's face in the sky.

"He was mine! My kill! Didn't I make that clear?" she shrieks at us. "You," she growls at Tymia who shrinks behind me. "It was you wasn't it, Twelve?" she snarls, walking up to her.

"N-no, it wasn't me; it-it-it was Evadne!" Tymia stutters nervously, backing away. "I-I told her not to, but she said she could handle you, but then the Five girl killed her!"

Howl stops inches away from her. She draws herself up to her full height so she can look her straight in the eyes, but she only reaches her collar bone. It would be pretty funny if her expression wasn't so evil.

"Liar!" she yells, looking ready to attack her.

"Back off, Howl. Hurting her isn't going to solve anything; we're down a tribute already," Lynx says, his voice extremely stern. To my surprise, she listens and backs away.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this one time, Twelve. Just count yourself lucky it wasn't the Five girl," she mutters. Everything goes quiet again as the screen in the sky vanishes.

"I'm getting her tonight," Howl says. "I don't care what you say. I need to get rid of her once and for all. That girl has been a thorn in my side for too long."

It's amazing how quickly the girl has changed her focus. She's been obsessed with the girl from Five ever since the night of the interviews and now it looks like it's gotten even more intense after seeing that the Games are a free-for-all; you can't reserve a kill.

"Why should we support you, Howl?" Giselle asks. "You're not going to let us kill the girl or the fat kid from Eleven. What will we get out of it?"

"If we run into any tributes on the way, I'll let you have them," Howl tells her.

"Oh how kind and generous of you," Giselle spits sarcastically. "That's certainly a promise you'll keep."

"Look, either you come or you don't. But I'm out of here. If any of you want to have fun, you'll be smart enough to follow me," Howl says. She turns away and starts walking off, expecting someone to follow her, but no one does. "Fine, stay here. I don't care. But as soon as I come back, I'm going to kill you all." With that, Howl turns back to the woods, a sense of determination filling the air.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_No, school didn't start yet (although it starts Tuesday). No, I didn't finish my summer reading. No, I'm not off my hiatus. This is just a little unexpected thing that I found the time to write._

_Thanks to Miss Mockingjay for her hard work this chapter!_

_The blog has been updated, so go ahead and check it out if you like._

___REVIEW TO SAVE YOUR TRIBUTE'S LIFE! If you haven't noticed, I've been killing off tributes whose owners haven't reviewed yet._

_I can't really think of anything else to write since I'm like half-asleep and wanted to publish this chapter before bed so I can wake up to some reviews (hint-hint). _

_Until next time (which will likely be a week or two, sorry),_

_krigoo_


End file.
